Jennifer Coates
by byrhthelm
Summary: Following the life and career of PO J Coates a year after her PCS to San Diego.  New Chapter structure from 30 Jun 11, some minor changes to Ch 20 & 21.
1. 21 September 2007

**Friday 21 September 2007**

Just before eight o'clock, at the close of a damp autumn Friday, a small car entered Ocean Beach, on the I-5, and pulled up outside a house just off Abbott Street. It was an older model Ford Escort, driven by a young woman, but under a light coating of road dust was much evidence of wax and a polishing cloth and there was nothing in the appearance of the driver to suggest that a newer model would have been beyond the depth of her purse. She was alone, and as she got out of the car revealed that she was dressed in a lightweight russet sweater and tan slacks. The outfit had been selected for comfort while driving rather than being designed to draw attention, but still subtly emphasised a figure that attracted an admiring glance from a middle-aged man walking his dog on the opposite side of the street. Her hair, worn loose, hung to the middle of her shoulder-blades and was held clear of her face by a pair of simple clips worn at her temples, and by a pair of sunglasses which had been pushed up to the top of her forehead.

Petty Officer First Class Jennifer Coates' face, framed by the hair, was that of a young woman in her mid-to-late twenties, and while, if judged by contemporary Hollywood standards, was not that of an outstanding beauty, was more than sufficiently attractive to rate a second, or even third look. The attraction was centred in a pair of fine brown eyes, in which lurked a incipient laughter and a great deal of intelligence, but her other features, taken individually, were not remarkable, her mouth being too large, her nose too far removed from the classical and her chin and jaw line a little too firm and resolute. But her smile not only lit up her face, it revealed a hidden but enchanting dimple on her right cheek. That she smiled often was clearly indicated by the laughter lines at the corners of her eyes. Her hair was neither brunette nor blonde, but a mid-brown with a hint of red highlights when caught by the sun; at work she wore it caught up in a French Plait, but in her free time she preferred to wear it loose, 'to let it breathe!' Her young friend - almost sister - Mattie, with her glorious red hair, which fell in riotous curls down her own back detested the plait and said it made her look old, and protested vigorously when she answered, "Well, I am old!"

It was apparent that her arrival had been anticipated, for she had hardly opened the car's trunk when the door of the house, which had been converted into apartments, was flung open and a young woman came hurtling down the steps, long blonde hair flying out behind her like a flag, to greet her with an enthusiastic hug, saying "Oh, Jen, you're back! I'm so happy to see you again!"

"Not as happy as I am to be back Fran! That was the longest and toughest course I've ever been on! It's great to be home again! How is everyone? How's that Marine of yours? You must tell me everything!"

"Oh, most things have gone well enough - here give me that sea-bag - Mr Rabb's still in DC - I told you about the Federal Grand Jury, didn't I? Mattie's OK, but she's been having a pretty tough time the last couple of weeks, she's back in her wheelchair. We've got new neighbours in the apartment downstairs - he's a doctor, and I think she's a cop, or maybe another lawyer!" Jen let Fran bubble away with all the local news while the two, shouldering sea-bag, suit carrier and holdall climbed the steps to the house and took the elevator to their third-floor loft conversion.

A mere three years, and one step in rank, separated the two young women in age and experience, but sometimes Jen felt as if she belonged to an entirely different generation. Fran had been brought up as the second child - and the only daughter - of four children born to Mom and Pop Neumann of Milwaukee, where they owned a street-corner deli, specialising in products from the old country, and which arrived irregularly in parcels at the house on Cape May Avenue. Mom and Pop Neumann, although worried about Fran's career choice, had supported her wish to enlist and were unreservedly proud of their daughter's desire to serve her country.

Jen's life had been different; she had been a reluctant enlistee. Given the choice by a civilian judge of serving her country or six months' jail at hard labour, she had chosen the navy. She had been raised in Maryland, the only child of a rigidly unforgiving, hell-fire preaching minister of the church, who reserved all his love for God and had none to spare for his family. He seemed to have even less love for his daughter after his wife died when Jen was barely ten years old. Jen's mother's death was officially classified as being due to natural causes, but Jen had come to the firm belief that her father's neglect was a major factor in her mother's death. Jen lived a misersable life for the next four years, trying to win some sign of affection from her father, but as her father became more morose and bitter, life became unbearable; she grew to hate her father, and at fourteen ran away from home and dropped out of school to live on the streets where she drifted into a world of petty theft, fraud and biker gangs. Enlisted solely as a means to escape jail, at first her one desire had been to return to life on the streets, her foray into Unauthorised Absence, as a step back towards her former life, had seen her tracked down by Marine Corps Masters at Arms, arrested and facing a court martial.

Ironically, it was during this period that she at last met, for the first time, someone who took an interest in her, and in her life, without expecting anything in return. Her appointed naval defence attorney, Commander Harmon Rabb of the Navy JAG Corps and a former F-14 pilot, had broken, or at least severely bent, several navy regulations to keep her out of the Navy Brig over the Christmas and New Year holidays, and even to discount an additional charge of unauthorised absence when she again took unauthorised absence after she was falsely accused of the theft of a valuable bracelet belong to one of the Commander's female colleagues. Despite Commander Rabb's best efforts, Jen was convicted and underwent a short period of confinement. Upon her return to duty, and as a result of the treatment she had received at Rabb's hands, she, in her own words, "Changed her attitude", obtained her GED and applied for re-training as a navy Legalman. Assigned to the aircraft carrier _USS Seahawk_, she worked for another friend of Rabb's, Lieutenant Bud Roberts, and when he lost a leg to a land-mine in Afghanistan her prompt action in slowing the bleeding and getting him to surgery as quickly as she could were instrumental in saving his life .

An unforeseen consequence of her actions was to bring her to the notice of Admiral Chegwidden, the navy's Judge Advocate General, who had her re-assigned to JAG Headquarters in Falls Church, Virginia, where rising to the post of Admiral's Yeoman, or administrative assistant, Jen quickly became accepted as a member of an unorthodox, but highly effective legal team, whom in turn she looked upon as a surrogate family.

The closeness between Jen and Rabb was enhanced when Rabb took legal guardianship of the teenage Matilda Grace Johnson, or as she preferred to be known, Mattie Grace. Mattie had not only been living alone since her mother had been killed in a car wreck and her alcoholic father, whom she blamed for the accident through driving while drunk, had disappeared, but she had also been running the family crop-dusting business out of Blacksburg airport, where Rabb kept his beloved Stearman bi-plane. On becoming Mattie's guardian, Rabb promised that never again would she be left alone. Rabb's one bedroom apartment was unsuitable for sharing with a teenage girl, and he intended to look for a suitable house in the suburbs. Mattie, however dedlared that she was tired of living in the country, and said she'd like to try city life for a while. Fortunately a neighbouring apartment became available and Rabb, unwilling to allow Mattie to live on her own, persuaded Jen to agree to share the apartment with Mattie, just down the hall from his own. The arrangement worked well, the two finding a common bond in the loss of their mothers, and the fifteen year-old Mattie coming to look upon Jen almost as her older sister. The three of them forming a somewhat unconventional family until Mattie's father had completed a spell in rehabilitation, and becoming reconciled with his daughter, the two of them reunited and returned to Blacksburg. Rabb and Jen were happy that Mattie and her father were returning to a normal family life but both of them missed the lively teenager who had come to mean so much to them.

Mattie, fired by Rabb's example, decided to emulate him and become a navy fighter pilot, and as a first step in achieving her goal she took a series of flying lessons. Unfortunately during the course of one such lesson the aircraft in which she was flying was overtaken by a sudden snowstorm, and while the instructor was attempting to land in reduced visibility collided with another airplane. The instructor was killed in the crash, and Mattie was severely injured, suffering trauma to the cervical section of her spinal cord and a head injury that left her in a coma; . Mattie's recovery from the coma was fairly rapid, but the spinal cord injury left her temporarily paralysed. Mattie's injuries led to a distraught Rabb staying by her hospital bedside for days, and as was his invariable habit in times of crisis, erecting emotional walls and refusing all offers of help from his friends. Mattie's father however was unable to cope with her injuries, and abandoned her for the second time in her life and returned to his one comfort - the bottle. angered and frustrated with this second abdication of his paternal responsibilities, Rabb filed an application to resume his guardianship of Mattie.

Just at this time, at the instigation of Major General Cresswell USMC, the new navy JAG, both Rabb and Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie of the US Marines, a fellow JAG Officer and Rabb's long-term partner were re-assigned. Rabb to London, to become the Naval Force JAG for Europe on promotion to Captain, and MacKenzie to command a new Joint Service Legal Team based at San Diego. Jen, in common with most of the Falls Church team, was aware of the long-standing on-again-off-again attraction between Rabb and MacKenzie, and had become increasingly frustrated with the inability of the two of them to recognise that they were soul-mates. With six thousand miles between them Jen was sure that their physical separation would also mark the end of their emotional attachment, remarking to the General, that if they couldn't talk to each other when their offices were twenty feet apart, then they would have no chance of communicating when they were so far distant from each other. However, a surprise outcome of the re-assignments had been the decision of Rabb and MacKenzie to finally acknowledge their mutual love and to marry. Sometimes, in thinking about the rapidly moving chain of events that culminated in their engagement, Jen wondered if the shrewd General Cresswell hadn't foreseen just such a result!

Navy regulations bar married officers from serving in the same chain of command, so the only way for the marriage to work was for either Rabb or MacKenzie to resign. As they were unable to decide which of them was to take this step, the outcome was decided on the flip of a coin. Abiding by the result, Rabb resigned his commission and Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie USMC became Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie-Rabb USMC and assumed her new duties in San Diego.

The now-Mr Rabb was compelled to stay on in DC until Mattie was well enough to travel to the west coast, where she formed part of Rabb's 'instant family' - his perhaps unconscious desire for which had been shrewdly identified earlier by a CIA Lawyer, Catherine Gale. Once the turmoil of moving to California had subsided, Rabb joined the prestigious San Diego law firm of Wheeler, Bayliss, Escobar, specialising in criminal defence.

Jen, at first unsure of what she should do, and reluctant to leave her comfort zone eventually summoned up the courage to ask if she might accompany Colonel MacKenzie to San Diego, an offer which the Colonel gladly accepted, in part because of Jen's association with Mattie, but mainly because Jen was exceptionally good at her job.

Jen's nomination to attend the navy's Chief Petty Officer School just two short years after assuming her new duties was ample evidence of her capabilities, although she would need to wait for her next year's fitness report before she could receive her promotion.

That was in the future though, and for the present, as she entered the apartment, all she really wanted was a hot soak, a chilled glass of wine and then bed - unpacking and the squaring away of her gear could wait until tomorrow - but her brow creased in tired concentration as something in Fran's stream of chatter caught her attention. Plumping on to the couch she said, "Hold 'em up there just a second, will you? Did you say that Mattie's not doing too good?"

"Oh, Jen, I'm sorry," Fran, moving to an armchair, was instantly contrite, "I swore that I wouldn't say anything until tomorrow at least."

Jen looked at Fran's conscience-stricken countenance and sighed, "Well, you've rubbed the lamp now, you can't shove the genie back inside. What's happened?"

"Well," her room-mate replied, "it's complicated."

Jen mustered a tired half-smile, "With Mattie, it generally is; go on."

"You do know that Mr Rabb's away in DC, right?" Fran enquired.

"Yes, I know that, go on."

"Well, Mattie's dumped her sticks and gone back to her wheelchair. The Colonel's been bogged down in a huge court martial case, so she asked me to help with Mattie while both of you were away."

"How do you mean, 'help'?"

"Oh, nothing too complicated, just picking Mattie up from school and taking her to physical therapy when the Colonel couldn't make it."

"Ok, so where's the problem there?"

"Oh, that wasn't a problem; it's just the Colonel had gotten tickets for the SD Symphony. Mattie was really looking forward to it, so when the Colonel had to cancel, she asked me if I'd take Mattie instead..."

The woebegone look on Fran's face was too much for Jen and a broad grin creased her face, "Damn, I'd have paid good money to see that!"

"What?" exclaimed Fran in surprise, "paid to see the symphony?"

"No," chuckled Jen, "I'd have paid to see you at the symphony! Oh, I'm sorry; I didn't really mean to laugh at you! Was it all too awful?"

"Nooo..." the answer, accompanied by a reluctant grin, was slowly drawn out, "no, it wasn't all that bad, but here's the thing," Fran paused, and blushing slightly, gently bit her bottom lip before continuing, "we met a guy there."

"Yes, go on," encouraged Jen, determined to wring the last drop of enjoyment out of her friend's evident embarrassment.

"Well, he was very interested in Mattie, and she's interested in him."

"And...," prompted Jen.

"Well, it's understandable. He's cute, he's got style, he's polite. He called her when he said he would, and they've been on a couple of dates. She swears up and down that his behaviour is irreproachable, so I don't see what the problem is."

"There's a problem?" Jen was surprised.

"Yes, the Colonel's taken against him, and she's told Mattie that she's not to see him again. And you know how Mattie is, tell her not to do something, and she'll straight off go ahead and..."

"Do it!" Jen interrupted. Finishing off others' sentences was Jen's persistent fault, and one that had from time to time brought the wrath of her superiors down upon her head. "So now," she continued, "Mattie and the Colonel are fighting about this boy?"

"Well, it's not quite fighting... they're just a bit off with each other. Mattie's sulking - you know how good she is at that - that's why she's gone back to using the chair - and the Colonel's mad at her for not using her sticks, as well as about this boy, 'cept he's not exactly a boy, either."

"Just how old is he, then?" Jen enquired, concern for Mattie stifling any last inclination towards amusement.

"I'm not sure... twenty-five, or maybe twenty-six, I guess."

"Fran! What were you thinking!" was Jen's shocked answer. "That's nearly ten years older than Mattie!"

"What's that to do with me, Jen? Asked Fran, defensively. "It's none of my never-mind who Mattie dates. Besides, he seems like a decent guy. Like I say, he's cute, he's well-dressed, he's got style, he's kind, generous, reliable and attentive. He's obviously got money; he's staying at the Del Coronado, and his family own a whole parcel of land up in Sonoma - something to do with wine-making."

Jen cast a shrewd glance at her room-mate, "Fran," she asked gently, "are you quite sure it's Mattie who's got the crush on this guy - what _is_ his name anyway - and not you ... and what about your Marine, Tim isn't it?"

Fran's face flooded with colour, her bright blue eyes evading Jen's level stare, "I'm not saying I don't find him attractive, but he's dating Mattie, so what's it matter how I feel? Anyway, I wouldn't try to cut Mattie out, no matter how I feel. That wouldn't be right, and it would make a bad situation worse. And at least I've _got_ a boyfriend!"

"Bad - worse?" Said a puzzled Jen, carefully ignoring the dig at her own single status, "What do you mean?"

"Well, the Colonel's usually better at reading people than she has been with Mattie just recently. Like we said, tell Mattie not to do something..."

"Yes."

"So, Mattie's got her mule-head on, and she's bent on seeing this guy - Stacy's his name, Stacy Caldwell - whenever she wants. Of course the Colonel won't take her to meet him, and won't allow him to see Mattie, or even call her at home..."

"Yeah, turning her into a modern Juliet! Of all the dumb-ass things! But you're right; it's not like the Colonel."

Fran then burst her bombshell. "Yeah, and then Mattie telling the Colonel that she wasn't her guardian, she wasn't in her army and she couldn't to tell her what to do or who to see.."

"Fran! No! She didn't?" Jen gasped in shock.

"Yeah, 'fraid, so. Least, that what she told me."

"What did you say to that?"

"What _could_ I say? The way Mattie was just then, if I had sided with the Colonel we would have had a huge bust-up right in the middle of the USD cafeteria, and I couldn't side with Mattie, could I?"

"What's Harm - Mr Rabb - saying about all this?"

"I don't know, Jen. I'm not family, remember? And if he's spoken to Mattie or the Colonel, neither of them have told me about it. I know it's wrong for Mattie to disrespect the Colonel like that, but it would be too bad if she had to suffer like you did."

"Fran! Have you gone crazy?" Interrupted Jen, looking at her with astonishment. "When did I ever suffer?"

"Jen, you can't have forgotten that you told us - me and Mattie - about that boyfriend you had back in Virginia - the one that other friend of yours shot."

"Fran, you can forget all about him! I promise you, I have! Didn't I tell you that he made me steal for him, and that he forced Pia - the girl who shot him - to turn tricks for him? And she's not my friend - I guess she never was really - she tried to frame me for his murder, and then tried to kill me! He was a real slime-bucket, and OK, I might have thought I had a broken heart when I had to enlist and go to boot camp, but I hadn't. I got over him quick enough, and thank God I did! And Mattie will get over this guy. Besides, with what she's got going on her life, with physical therapy and starting college next year, she's got no time for a serious boyfriend right now."

"Well, if you are over him, how come you blew off that Steve guy? He adored you; flowers and little presents all the time, cute text messages, clean, attractive - in a sort of goofy way - and..."

"Totally boring!" replied Jen, with a hint of laughter back in her voice, and her eyes were brimming with amusement. "Oh, Fran, have you been thinking of me with a broken heart all this time. I'm sorry, but I'm not the tragic heroine out of one of your dippy romantic novels! Hey, how did this suddenly become about me? I thought we were talking about Mattie!"

"We are! You side-tracked me!" protested Fran.

"I did not!"

"Did, too!"

Both young women looked at each other and burst out laughing, "Hell, Jen, we sound just like Mattie!" Fran gasped out between giggles.

"Oh, I know, I know... Look, Fran, I'm too whacked to think about this right now, and anyway it's not really our problem; I'm going to catch a bath and then I'm hitting my rack."

"Hah! You may not think it's not your problem... but wanna bet Mattie thinks different?"

Jen gave her friend a steady look and said in a firm voice, "Goodnight, Fran!"

"Hey! Before you go, do you want to eat? Or can I get you a drink?"

Jen hesitated and looked back over her shoulder, "H'mmm... do we have any marshmallows, or have you eaten them all?"

"Yeah, we got some...hot chocolate?"

"Please! - in the bathroom!"


	2. 22 September 2007

**Saturday 22 September 2007**

Not long after 8 o'clock the following morning, the buzzing of the interphone alerted Jen to the arrival of Mattie and Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie-Rabb. Letting the visitors in, Jen just had time to see that despite Fran's warning of the previous evening, that Mattie was not in her wheelchair, but was using her sticks, before she was nearly knocked off her feet by the exuberant Mattie, who dropping her sticks, threw her arms around Jen, uttering a crow of triumph, "You aren't still in bed! I told Mac you wouldn't be! I'm so glad you're back, Jen!"

Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie-Rabb was a strikingly beautiful woman in her thirties, with deep brown eyes and dark brown hair cropped to her jaw line. Instead of her working uniform she had chosen a civilian shirt and slacks suitable for a Saturday morning. She hung back for a few seconds to allow Jen to disengage herself from the excited teenager and then said, "Yes, welcome back, Petty Officer, it's good to see you again." This was no mere courtesy; there was genuine warmth and liking in the Colonel's tone, as there was in Jen's reply.

"It's good to be back, ma'am. How are you all?"

The Colonel's, "We're all fine, thank you," was tinged with dryness and accompanied by a wry glance together with a raised eyebrow in Mattie's direction. A by-play totally missed by Mattie, whose eyes were fixed on Jen.

"I promised Mattie, that I would drive her over here to visit with you, for a short while, but we can't be staying long, I have to go into work, so we'll need to leave in the next few minutes..."

"Well, can I get you a coffee? It's fresh brewed," Jen suggested.

"No, thank you, Coates, we just don't have the time," but there was real regret in Mac's voice, brewing good coffee was one of Jen's accomplishments, and a total contrast to the long-gone Tiner's attempts at coffee-making.

Mattie's despairing "Oh, Mac..." was cut off by Jen's smile.

"Colonel, you may have to go, but you can leave Mattie with me. I've got no plans for the day, except to get squared away, and Mattie can sit and chatter away while I do that. I'm sure she's got lots she wants to tell me!"

"Yes," replied Mac drily, "I'm sure she has, and I'm equally sure you've got better things to do than to be an unpaid babysitter!"

Jen's "Colonel, if I didn't mean it, I wouldn't have said it. Mattie can stay all day if she wants," reassured Mac that Jen wasn't just being polite and accepted the younger woman's offer with a look of gratitude.

Then turning to Mattie she said, "Now, listen young lady, mind your manners, no being disrespectful to either Petty Officer Coates or Petty Officer Neumann. Are you sure you've got your meds?"

Mattie's demure "No, Mac; yes Mac" did nothing to allay any concerns that Mac might have harboured in respect of her behaviour.

Giving a troubled smile to Jen, she rose to her feet, turned and walked towards the apartment door, saying as she went, "Alright, if Petty Officer Coates is sure you won't be too much trouble, I'll collect you at seventeen hundred hours. Coates, you have my cell number, right?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm sure, ma'am, and there's no need for you to collect Mattie, I'll be glad take her home; what time do you want her back?"

"Thank you, Coates; she needs to be home by eighteen hundred."

"Yes, ma'am, eighteen hundred it is!"

"Goodbye, then Mattie, goodbye Coates, oh, and good morning Neumann."

This last comment was addressed to a bleary-eyed Fran, who appeared at the door to her bedroom with sleep-crumpled face, unbrushed hair and tastefully attired in an Australian rugby jersey and pyjama bottoms.

A mumbled, "G'morning, ma'am, Jen I need coffee," were the only greetings vouchsafed the world as she made her unsteady way from bedroom to kitchen.

Mattie waited until both Mac and Fran had left the room before saying, in a carefully expressionless tone, "You know, Jen, it looks like Fran isn't really a morning person."

Jen paused, deliberately allowing a degree of anticipation to build up before her ironic reply, "You think?"

Mattie's rare but infectious grin flashed out, as she took in Jen's comment.

Jen continued to look speculatively at Mattie, before saying in a more normal tone, "It seems I've been away too long, Mattie, sounds like you've developed a fine line in understatement while I was gone. Anything else happened that I should know about?"

Jen was fully expecting Mattie to exhibit a degree of reserve, or even to be wary and half-defiant, expecting some form of criticism, but there was no trace of self-consciousness in Mattie's face and nothing but affection in her eyes which looked straight into Jen's.

"It's been awful without you!" Mattie said, reaching out and giving Jen's hand a squeeze, "You have no idea!"

Jen gently returned the squeeze and said with mock sympathy, "Poor Mattie! So strict and unkind as the Colonel must have been! I knew she would be!"

"That's what I've missed so much!" Mattie said, with a muffled giggle, "I _do_ like Mac - well most of the time - but she's not a great joker, not at all uberkuhl!"

"Well, I shouldn't think so," responded Jen cautiously. "Not that I know what uberkuhl means, but it doesn't sound much like the Colonel, and it doesn't sound much like the language you should be using at all!"

Jen's mock scold brought amusement to Mattie's face, "Oh, it's only a bit of slang - it means supercool - but more than just that, it means - oh, lively, bright, wicked! Like you!"

"It does, does it? I'll take that as a compliment, then, but don't you dare call me that again or I'll... I'll... well, I'm not sure what, but I'll think of something vile!"

"OK, OK, I won't, I won't! Mattie promised. "Can we be serious Jen, I've got so much to tell you; something... something really important."

Jen felt a cowardly impulse to fob Mattie off, but overcame it; saying in what she hoped was an interested tone, "Have you? OK, then, serious it is. What is it?"

Mattie leaned her head on Jen's shoulder and looking up into her face directed an earnest look at Jen, "Didn't Mac or Fran maybe, tell you about Stacy?"

Jen's arm crept around Mattie's shoulder, hugging the younger girl, "About Stacy? Noooo... I don't think so... Oh, yes! The Sonoma millionaire you've got at your feet! Yes, Fran told me last night, and I thought it was very funny! I mean," she corrected herself in a ridiculously prim tone, "that of course Mac and Fran were dead right thinking that he's too old for you - he is about ten years older, isn't he? I'm sorry if it hurts you, Mattie, but that's too big an age gap for your time of life."

There was no answering amusement in response to Jen's deadpan delivery. "It's not like that, "Mattie protested, "If we don't care about the age difference, why should anyone else. From the first night we met, I knew he was the one for me -." She paused and drew a long breath, "I love him!"

Jen had not expected to hear such a frank admission and was temporarily lost for words, and Mattie wanting to fill the silence, ploughed on.

"You know what that's like Jen, and you know what it's like to lose someone you love."

Jen although again taken by surprise was, this time, able to find her tongue. "What do you mean, Mattie?"

"Oh, Jen, you _know_ what I mean. You've been in love with Harm since before I met him, or you; and you didn't do anything about it, and now he's married to Mac! Well that's not going to happen to me and Stacy!"

"Mattie! It's no such thing," protested a furiously blushing Jen, removing her arm from Mattie's shoulder and sitting bolt upright, all trace of amusement vanished from her voice, "It's not true! Yes, I had a bit of a crush on him for a while, but that's because he was the first person in a long time that treated me half-way decently. I got over that before he met you, and he's more like an uncle or a big brother to me now, and he has been for a long time! You haven't said anything like that to the Colonel have you?"

"Of course not," denied Mattie, lifting Jen's arm around her shoulder again and snuggling into the embrace, "I know how to keep a secret, and_ I_ don't go around gossiping about my friends! Anyway, I haven't got a stupid crush on Stacy, I do love him, and when you meet him you'll understand, and you'll like him too - just don't try and steal him from me!"

Jen responded to Mattie's attempt at humour with a wan smile and told her young friend not to be so dumb.

"Oh, I was only joking, honest, Jen! Here's the thing: he isn't just some stupid boy, like Charlie Tuckman, or Johnny Barlow, or... or Peter Stewart. Yes, he _is_ older, but that just means he treats me as if _I_ was older too! And he admits that he's had lots of girlfriends, but that none of them were serious until he met me! And he must have met lots of girls lots prettier than me - don't you think?"

Jen, aware that one of her faults was the impulse to speak out loud the first thought that popped into her mind fought down her inclination to say, "But few quite as young as you, with a farm and an airplane business in Virginia!" and instead, trying to lighten the mood, replied in a tone of mild amusement, "Well, seeing as how I don't know any of the latest bunch of Hollywood starlets or super models, I can't say. But to have caught such an older man, and a rich one, too is definitely outstanding. Yes, I know I shouldn't say that to you - the Colonel would say I was making you swollen headed - so, please, don't give me away, Mattie!"

"Oh, Jen, you don't understand. This is serious - you gotta believe me! Has the Colonel told you that he's a player? He has got a bad rep, he told me so himself! But I don't care! Although he says he's fallen in and out of love hundreds of times, he says he never wanted to be married until he met me! And if the Colonel said he would never change, she might as well not have bothered. Stacy told me that although he was already changing, no-one could blame Harm and the Colonel if they didn't believe him and were dead-set against him!"

She momentarily hid her face against Jen's shoulder, before raising her eyes to once again to Jen's face to add, "So you see..."

Jen thought she did see, but she only said, stroking the copper curls pressed against her shoulder, "But why all this fuss, then? Anyone would think that Harm had already said no, and had threatened to send you away somewhere out of this Stacy's reach."

"Oh," said Mattie, in a little, breathless voice, "Do you think he won't say 'no'".

"Oh, no!" said Jen, "I'm sure he will! Harm's no fool and I'm sure he won't be happy with the idea of your getting married at your age. Yes, I know you'll soon be eighteen, but you're not quite there yet. A fine guardian he'd be if he was happy to see you married before you were eighteen, before you were fully recovered or even before you completed college, Alright, I know that makes you want to scratch my eyes out, but please don't! Harm and the Colonel really do love you and like me all they want is for you to be happy."

"I know they do! I know you all do, so you will help me, won't you? You are my BFF!"

"Yes, I'll help you if you can convince me that your first love will be your last!"

"I have told you so, already!" Mattie said, disengaging Jen's arm and sitting upright in her turn and staring at her friend in rising indignation. "I could never love anyone like I love Stacy! Damn it, Jen, how can you - _you_ - let me down like this? I _know_ - about that boy back home - the one you left when you joined the navy! And how you never loved anyone else until you met Harm - I don't care how much you say you don't - and how much it hurt when he married Mac - and... and how your life was ruined!"

Jen pretended not to notice Mattie's second reference to her long-gone rush on Harm. "Well, OK, I did think when I joined the navy that my life was ruined," Jen conceded, a smile quivering at the corners of her mouth. "I gotta admit though, that I can hardly remember what that boy in Virginia looked like. I can only be thankful that the judge gave me the choice between the navy and prison! Do you know that most of that crowd I ran with are either in prison - or dead? And, Mattie, it's sad but true that your first love is never the smallest bit like your last - he's the one you marry and live happily ever after with!"

"Oh yeah," muttered a rebellious Mattie, "How come you've never gotten married, and what about Bud and Harriet? They were each other's first love weren't they?"

A smile of genuine pleasure broke across Jen's face and her dimple danced into life as she remembered the love shared by the Roberts. "Ah, Mattie, Mattie, Bud and Harriet are exceptional people. You know the old saying about rules and exceptions? Well, Bud and Harriet Roberts are that exception! And by the way, young lady, if I have never married, it's not because I have a broken heart. I _have_ fallen in love, dozens of times - and fallen out again just as quickly!"

"Well, I shan't! I mean to marry Stacy, whatever Harm or Mac might say or do!"

Well aware that few things were more likely than opposition to rouse Mattie's fighting spirit, Jen replied instantly, "Oh, certainly, if your heart is set on him! But Harm's always said prepare for the worst and you won't be surprised. I reckon you shouldn't tell Harm or the Colonel about any marriage plans until you can prove that this isn't just a crush."

"Oh, Jen, it's not! When you meet Stacy, you will understand."

"Will, I? But, yes, I would like to meet him; how soon?"

"Oh, not long, I hope! I miss him already! He had to fly back to DC for a few days, but he called me and said he should be back in San Diego by next weekend, or early the week after!"

This was said with such a radiant look, and was followed by an ecstatic account of Mattie's first meeting with Stacy, and a detailed description of all his virtues. Jen listened and made appropriate comments at suitable points in the flow, but grabbed at the first chance to turn Mattie's thoughts in a different direction. She directed her attention to the flight school brochures she had obtained from Montgomery Field on her way back to San Diego, and asked Mattie if she still wanted to learn to fly.

She achieved her aim; Mattie became very thoughtful and sat in silence for a while before saying in a small voice, "You know, Jen, I do. But... it kinda scares me too..." she gestured in a helpless manner at her weakened legs, "The crash scared me, but when I woke up in hospital, I didn't feel any pain, just so... helpless. I couldn't move at all, everything had to be done for me, I had to be helped to drink, to be fed, and to be cleaned, to be washed... everything. Jen... what if it happened again?"

Jen was a little shocked by Mattie's reaction; she had never before revealed her fears. She had always concentrated on recovery and on her determination to get back into the air. Jen wondered if Mattie's crush (she was dead sure that's all it was) had anything to do with these previously unsuspected misgivings.

"Well, Mattie, I don't know that you are not going to crash again... no-one could know, so I can't tell you that you won't. But, think about it a second, Harm's crashed, what, three or four times? Including having to eject over the Atlantic! And he still likes to fly; wouldn't he have taken the Stearman to DC if he could? And if you want to make him really happy, buy him a Tomcat for Christmas!"

Mattie's shout of laughter brought a now-presentable Fran from her bedroom - she had been back and forth between kitchen, bathroom and bedroom throughout the other girls' conversation.

"A Tomcat, Jen?" asked a puzzled Fran, "Wouldn't that be smelly, marking his territory all over the house?" She looked on in offended surprise as the other two exchanged startled looks and then collapsed into howls of laughter.

"Wrong... type... of... Tomcat, Fran" hiccupped Jen, as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Yes," added Mattie, fighting back her giggles, "We mean the F-14 Tomcat - it's a jet," she added as Fran's expression became more bewildered.

"Oh, I knew that" claimed a not-totally-convincing Fran; and quickly changing the subject, asked "Have you two had breakfast, yet? 'Cause I'm starving!"

Jen looked fondly at her friend, "I never knew you when you weren't hungry! It's not fair, you eat like a horse, you eat all the wrong stuff and you never go to the gym! I don't know how you stay so skinny!"

"Oh, I do work out... with Tim... just not in the gym!"

"What do you mean?" inquired an interested Mattie.

"Never you mind!" hastily interrupted Jen.

"Oh, I get it! Does Ess Ee Ex really help you stay thin?" asked Mattie.

"Uh..." Fran floundered for a couple of seconds, "Well, it can do... it can burn off a lot of calories."

"Yeah, it can." Added Jen, "But you don't need to worry about that, not yet! And not with your figure!"

"Maybe not yet," replied Mattie, "but if I carry on eating Fran's cooking, I might have to!"

"Mattie, are you complaining about my cooking?" Fran demanded, raising a wooden spatula in a mock threat.

"No, I'm complaining that I like it too much" laughed Mattie. "What's for breakfast anyway?"

"Eggs, Canadian bacon, toast and OJ for three coming right up! Jen, can you help me out here, and make some more coffee, please."

Breakfast, - or brunch, so late had the meal been eaten - was soon over, and washing up completed, the three young women sat over a second mug of coffee to make plans for the rest of the day.

Jen needed to get her gear squared away and her uniform ready for Monday, while Fran had wanted to curl up on the couch and bury herself in one of her favourite 'bodice-ripper' romances. Neither programme appealed to Mattie, who said she'd prefer to go shopping.

Jen look a little concerned at this plan and asked, "Mattie, are you sure you can manage it on sticks?"

"Oh, my chair is in the hallway, I figured we could take it, just in case, if that's OK...?"

"No, hon, that's fine, but we'll need to go to a mall with parking and elevators, so that puts Loma Boulevard off limits. How about Mission Valley, then if we don't find anything there, we could move on to Westfield, or maybe even Fashion Valley? Fran, how 'bout you, you coming?"

"No... if you two are going out, I think I'll treat myself to a long hot soak and a general pampering... make myself beautiful... just in case Tim calls..."

Jen grinned, "Hot date planned, huh?" and ignoring Fran's glare, carried on, "Well, we're not going just yet, I still need to put some laundry in the machine, and get the iron out. If we leave a bit later Mattie, we can drop straight down to Lemon Grove when we're done, without having to come back here first."

Laundry and uniform pressing duly completed, Jan and Mattie left Fran to her home-spa afternoon, and loading Mattie's wheelchair into the Escort's trunk, headed east along Kumeyaay Highway towards Mission Valley mall. Mattie was quiet during the drive, allowing Jen to fully concentrate on the Saturday afternoon traffic, and weaving in and out of the other vehicles, the Escort made it to Mission Valley in good time. As she was looking for a parking spot, Mattie offered her disabled parking badge; an offer that Jen quickly accepted, not to make life easier for herself, but so that Mattie would be near the elevators up to the shopping levels.

Mattie, perhaps wisely, and much to Jen's relief, opted for her chair to tour the mall, leading her older friend unerringly to the various clothing stores.

Colette, born Eliza Johnson, although not enjoying the patronage of San Diego's elite, was a dress designer of no little talent, and although her prices were higher than Jen, or Mattie, could afford on a regular basis, both had previously bought her designs, and as they entered the store, they were quickly recognised by Colette, who intercepted her head saleswoman to greet the pair herself.

Mattie, by no means a fashionista - until recently her usual outfits had consisted of sneakers, jeans and a T-shirt - had set her heart on a dark green cocktail dress, which not only had an extremely low-cut décolletage, but was also virtually backless. Jen, on seeing the dress, decided that while perhaps suitable for a young woman in her twenties - although she wouldn't wear it - it was not really the sort of dress that Mattie ought to wear, being in her opinion far too revealing. A look at Colette, over Mattie's head was sufficient to convey these feelings to the designer, who, to be fair, also thought the dress not suitable for a teenager. With consummate professional skill she persuaded Mattie, that the dress, far from making her look fashionable, would make her look as if she was trying too hard and would in fact make her look cheap. So tactful was Colette, that Mattie emerged from the store an hour later with the pleasant sense that the abandonment of the cocktail dress had been her own idea all along, and that the far more modest item in one of Colette's distinctive carrier bags hanging from her chair back was far better suited to show her off as a young woman of taste and impeccable fashion sense. Of course, such a purchase needed accessorising and a further two hours was passed in selecting just the right shoes, purse and fashion jewellery to match.

Eventually, as fatigue set in, the pair opted for a halt in favour of coffee and chocolate cake, at one of the mall's many eateries. Here they met several friends and acquaintances, among whom were Colonel Wexford, a retired Marine with Korean War vintage memories, and one of Jen's more elderly admirers, and Mrs Graham, with her daughter Linda, one of Mattie's closest friends. The two teenagers soon had their heads together, and after gracefully countering the Colonel's compliments, Jen turned to Mrs Graham and sympathetically inquired whether she had any fresh news of her son, last heard of in Paraguay, but expected daily back in San Diego. The anxious look on Mrs Graham's rather care-worn face intensified as she shook her head and replied with a half-smile, "Not yet, But my brother says that everything is fixed, and that it won't be long before he's home. Henry, my brother, has been so good; if it had been possible, he would have sent his own doctor down to attend Robert. He blames himself, you know, but that's rubbish! Robert was keen to travel, and who could guess that he would get so sick? I didn't; he had always been such a healthy child!"

"Do they think," asked Jen, "that there's permanent damage to his health?"

"No, I don't think so... but I don't know anything, really... and it's not something that I want to think could happen..."

Before either of them could continue the conversation, they were interrupted by the arrival of Louise Barr, a civilian attorney and one of Mac's friends, who adroitly interposed herself between Jen and a young man in slacks and an open-necked shirt, who was determinedly heading in her direction. Aware of his intentions, she grinned and asked Jen's pardon, adding as she sat down, "I only wish you cared, Jennifer!"

"Oh I do, ma'am, and I'd much sooner talk to you than Stephen Lewis! Do you know Alice Graham? Alice, this Louise Barr, one of my boss' friends. Ma'am, we were just talking about Alice's son, she's worried about him."

"Oh, he's not deployed, is he?"

"No, he's not in the military, but he is out of the country," replied Mrs Graham. "He's been working down in Paraguay, and caught some sort of fever."

"That must be a worry for you, then."

"Yes, but I know if anything... if the worst should happen, I would have been told, so I try not to worry too much. My brother has arranged for him to be brought home by air ambulance, and we expect him home any day now. If he has to go into hospital en route Jen, I shall dump Linda on you on you and be off! I'm so grateful to Fran for the offer; but are you sure it's alright?"

"Mrs Graham, how can you ask? Of course I'm unhappy at the thought of such a duty! It's only good manners that make me say we shall be happy to look after Linda!" Jen's tome made it clear that she was gently teasing the older woman.

Mrs Graham smiled, and pressed her hand, "I don't think she'll be any trouble. What I do think, though... Jen, may I speak frankly with you?"

"Please do! Though I think I know what you want to talk about: Mattie?"

"Oh, if that's the case, I'll leave you to it," interjected Mrs Barr, gathering up her bags and purse. "I have some idea of what's going on in that arena, and I want plausible deniability! If you see Mac, Jennifer, say hi to her from me." With a cheerful wave of her hand, she made her way towards the parking level elevators.

Mrs Graham nodded a farewell and turning to Jen said, "Then you know? I'm glad you're home. I've been feeling a little worried about Mattie, too. Colonel MacKenzie is very kind to Mattie, I understand, but she seems to have..."

"Mishandled the situation? Yes, but it's most unlike her, and Fran, who was helping, seems to have also fallen under the spell of this Caldwell".

"Well, he is very charming," said Mrs Graham reluctantly. "Only there's just something about him that I just don't like! It's difficult to explain, I don't have any real reason for disliking him, but... Except..." Again she hesitated, but being urged to continue, said, "Jen, no boy could be blamed for being attracted to Mattie, but I don't think a man, so much older than her should wish her to ..."

"Commit herself, when she is so young?"

"Exactly! That might make me old-fashioned, but when a man of his age starts dating a child of Mattie's age - and it's not just her age, it's her inexperience. How many boyfriends has she had? Linda tells me that Mattie was only fifteen when she had her accident, and that she's been in and out of hospital and in that wheelchair ever since! Linda's about the same age as Mattie, and she's only had three boyfriends - that I know of anyway - and I would be frightened if this Caldwell was paying Linda that much attention. It's no surprise to me that a young girl should lose her head when an older man flatters her into poor judgement and treats her to a private dinner in his suite"

"Wow! I didn't know about that! Is there more I should know?"

"I am afraid so. I don't think there's anything of a serious nature, or that is generally known. I just hope that between you, you and the Colonel can put a stop to it. I wouldn't have mentioned it, if that had been all. Let's face it, it's not really any of my business, and I don't like being your snitch, but I believe that's _not_ all! I like Mattie too much not to tell you that I have learned certain things that Linda - in all innocence - has let slip; I'm afraid the affair may be more serious than I thought at first. How many secrets those two share, I don't know - hundreds probably - and I don't want to pry, because if Linda thought I was trying to discover something she sees as a secret, she would fob me off, or maybe even lie, and certainly be more careful in what she says to me. It's difficult to explain, and it may seem stupid to you, but we've always been so close, and we've always trusted each other..." She faltered to a stop and then said despairingly, "It's no use, I can't explain it."

"No, there's no need to," answered a concerned Jen, "I understand completely. Don't worry, I won't let Mattie even suspect that Linda has let something slip. If I can be as open with you as you have with me?" Without waiting for consent, she continued, "I'm not sure what this Caldwell's game is. He's known as a player, I think, but surely he wouldn't risk a charge of statutory rape, and if he thinks Mattie's got money... well, she will have in time, but nothing to compare with his family's, if what we've been told about Sonoma is true. But Mattie has been very open with me, and tells me that she loves him! At seventeen! I don't know if Caldwell expects Harm - Mr Rabb - to just let him walk off with Mattie, but I doubt it. So, what's his game? If he thinks to win my support, he's wrong! Is he just flirting? Or does he intend to elope with Mattie?" Her eyes widened as she saw the quick look of alarm in Mrs Graham's face, and a laugh trembled in her throat, "I... I was only joking!"

"Yes, I know, Jen, but... sometimes I wonder... when a girl thinks she's fallen in love with someone so much older, so much more experienced, and who you say is a player...And if he is a player, then he must be able to persuade girls to..."

"Well, I don't know either, Mrs Graham, but maybe he thinks Mattie's got more coming to her than she has. Yes, she owns a small crop dusting company, but it's dormant, and has, I think, two airplanes only. The farm is in Virginia, and small by California standards. So although Mattie has got some property, I wouldn't call her rich!"

"Yes, but does he know that?" Mrs Graham asked, "Would Mattie have told him?"

Jen's eyes, swiftly raised, held a startled expression. She said, after a second or two, "No, I don't suppose he does, and I don't know why Mattie would tell him. It's not the sort of thing she would bring up. Somebody'll have to tell Caldwell, and if I have to, I will. Meanwhile..."

"Meanwhile," said Mrs Graham with a significant nod and a smile, Stephen Lewis is heading back this way, to tear you out of my clutches I expect, so I'll say goodbye! But, d'you know, Jen, I wish I could see you happily settled down!"

She moved away as she spoke, calling to her daughter to, "Come on, Linda, time to go." Leaving Stephen Lewis' path to Jen open.

He came towards her with a broad smile on his face, saying simply, "You're back! San Diego has been a desert while you've been gone!"

Jen turned his compliments off with a gentle laugh, and seizing on the chance of the Graham's departure, apologised to Lewis and calling to Mattie, said that they really had to go, "Before Mac marks you down as UA!"

As she pushed Mattie's chair towards the elevator, Mattie twisted round to look up at Jen and asked, "Why don't you like Stephen, Jen? He's OK, he's nice, he's not too bad looking, he's got a steady job, a nice house, so what's up with him?"

"Oh, Mattie! Yes, he's nice; he's all those things you said. Yes, he's got a good job, yes, he's got a nice house. But I just can't think of him as more than just a friend - besides," she added with the air of someone making a final argument, "he still lives with his mother!"

Mattie subsided, but she was deeply concerned about Jen. Since moving to California, she had benefitted from treatment at the Naval Medical Centre at San Diego, and had visited Mac on base. During these visits to both base and Medical Centre she had seen female Chief Petty Officers. A lot of them were single, even in their mid-to-late thirties, and while they deserved every credit for making their service a major part of their lives, Mattie, in the ignorance of youth, thought they were bitter, dried up, middle-aged spinsters who had missed out on husbands and families. She didn't want Jen to end up the same way.

But neither did Jen. She felt no real attraction to Peter Lewis, nor indeed to any of the men she had met since leaving DC, but she had for a while seriously considered Peter as a husband. He would be kind, she was sure, if unexciting. He was settled and could provide for her, of that there was no doubt... but romance there was none.

Jen had lacked a strong male role model in her life until the navy brought Harmon Rabb into it. Yes, she admitted to herself, she had, for quite a while thought she loved him, and had suffered agonies of jealousy when he and Mac had been TAD together; but seeing him daily in Mac's company at Falls Church had allowed her to see the difference between her infatuation and the deep love and affection that he and Mac had shared - even if they had refused to acknowledge it for nearly ten years! Still, however unconsciously, Jen held Harmon Rabb as her ideal and measured each man she met against his standard, and so far none of them had matched him. She still believed that somewhere out there was the man for whom she would feel more than just friendship. She had once believed too that she would, one day, meet him. She had not yet done so, and it had begun to seem that she never would; but giving in to lost hopes and settling for a second-best, she felt would be short-changing herself.

At the moment, however, she had to ignore her own hopes and dreams; her mind was fully occupied by the more pressing need of how best, and most painlessly, to separate Mattie from the undesirable Stacy Caldwell. Mrs Graham was no idle gossip, and Jen knew that only a deep sense of misgiving could have overpowered her distaste of telling tales out of school. What she had discovered, either from first-hand knowledge, or from remarks let slip by her daughter, she obviously felt to be too serious not to be discussed with someone near to Mattie. Although, Jen thought, at the same time her calm manner hid an over-anxious heart which might lead her to magnify possible dangers.

Mrs Graham's had suffered enough tragedy in her life to discourage any degree of optimism. Married to an army infantry Captain, and the mother of three children, she had endured long years of separation, always looking forward to many happy years ahead when her husband eventually retired; her dreams were shattered by news of Captain Graham's death during Desert Storm. This blow was followed less than a year later by the death of her younger son during a school football game, and then the break-down of her own health. Under the circumstances it was hardly surprising that she tended to see the glass half-empty.

Not that she ever seemed to be depressed. If she could be brought to speak of her troubles, which was not often and only to a few trusted friends, she said that she was luckier than many soldiers' widows because she had the support of her brother, whose generosity and affection went far above and beyond the call of even family duty. Her brother was the chief executive of a multi-national oil exploration and mining company, and a bachelor. His house in La Jolla and holidays in Switzerland and Sea Island in Georgia were ample evidence of his wealth, which he was quite prepared to spend on his only sister and her family. Not only had he bullied and persuaded her into accepting an allowance which let her establish herself in Ocean Beach - not a stone's throw from Abbott Street, but had claimed the right to maintain his surviving nephew at USC, and to offer him a job withone of the geological exploration teams of his company in Paraguay. It was generally thought that he had also made Robert his main heir. He had in addition declared his intention to maintain Linda at whichever university she attended. It was unfortunate that Mr Henry Downing's good intentions had such a sad result, Robert's health being unequal to the demands of the job and of the climate, he had contracted an endemic fever, and now he was being flown home, according to Mrs Graham, if not dying, in a state of total collapse.

Jen's own cheerful spirit took a more optimistic view of Robert's case, but realised that the anxiety Mrs Graham felt might lead her to exaggerate the depth of Mattie's crush.

Her reflections kept her quiet as she helped Mattie into the car and loaded the chair into the trunk, but as she eased out of the parking garage she forced her thoughts down into the back of her mind as she devoted her attention to the road. Fortunately the drive to the Rabb house on Pacific Avenue took a little under half an hour, and Jen was able to deliver Mattie to Mac before the six o'clock deadline.

On returning to Abbott Street, Jen found the apartment empty and a note on the coffee table, "Out with Tim - won't be back 'til late. Lasagne in the oven - needs heating up. Salad and cheap Chablis are in the 'fridge. Help yourself. Fran xxx".

A half hour later saw a freshly showered and pyjama-clad Jen ensconced on the couch with a glass of the Chablis, and plate of lasagne and salad. There was nothing worth watching on the television, so indulging in her guilty secret "Why _should_ I feel guilty?" she wondered as she put a Star-Wars DVD into the player and settled down to watch the antics of Luke Skywalker and his friends before heading for her bed.


	3. 23 September 2007

**Sunday 23 September 2007**

A good night's sleep, uninterrupted even by Fran's early hours of the morning return, did much to refresh Jen, and she awoke ready for the day just as the sun was rising. Contenting herself with brushing her teeth and pulling her hair back into a pony-tail, she slipped on T-shirt and shorts and a pair of sneakers, and hanging her key around her neck together with her whistle, she checked her pepper-spray and slipping it into the pocket of her shorts headed out for a run. Jen hated running, but comforted herself by knowing that it was not only a way to maintain fitness, but that it also helped to keep her figure trim. Out to Midway Towne and back alongside the Ocean Beach Bike Path should be about five miles she reckoned, and should take her a little over a half an hour. That ought to be enough for a Sunday, she told herself, and running on the grass would be easier on her knees than running on concrete or tarmac.

Despite the early hour, the day already had a noticeable degree of warmth and it was a red-faced and deeply-breathing young woman who returned to her apartment some forty minutes later. Fran had not yet emerged from her bedroom, and Jen seeing the Omni hotel's 'Do Not Disturb' card hanging from the door-knob, and knowing that the sign meant Tim had probably stayed over, made a mental note to be fully dressed outside of her own bedroom.

A shower and shampoo completed Jen's morning ablutions, and sitting on the edge of her bed with hair-dryer and brush in hand she set about making herself presentable for the day.

Fran and Tim woke while Jen was making her breakfast of toast and coffee, and took their time over their own morning preparations, finally sitting down to breakfast just as Jen finished hers.

Jen was all set for an idle Sunday, and settled on the couch, happy to browse through the Sunday newspapers and not really paying much attention to anything, or maybe watching a TV movie - if there were any worth watching. Her first inkling of anything unusual was the sound of a falling kitchen stool as Tim jumped to his feet and his staccato, "Ma'am! Good morning, ma'am!"

Jen, looking up from her newspaper, was startled to see Mac standing in the doorway, the door evidently having been opened for her by Fran.

Mac smiled "Stand down, Marine; I'm here as a private citizen and as a guest. Jennifer, can we talk?"

Startled by the informality of Mac's address, an informality she rarely used, Jen stuttered her assent, and turning to Fran and Tim asked, "Guys, can we have the room, please?"

"Sure" answered Fran, "How long do you need?"

"An hour?" suggested Jen, looking at Mac for confirmation. Mac's brief nod was all that was needed for Tim to suggest that he and Fran took a walk along the beach, and so, picking up the stool, and making their farewells, the pair left the two alone in the apartment.

"Jennifer, I've come to talk to you about..."

"Mattie, ma'am?"

Mac smiled despite her worries, it seemed that a succession of commanding officers had failed to break Jen of her habit of finishing others' sentences.

"Yes, Mattie. It seems she thinks that she's in love with this..."

"Caldwell, ma'am?"

Mac blew a soft sigh of relief, "She told you then?"

"Yes, ma'am. Ma'am, did you really think that she..."

"Wouldn't, Jennifer"? Mac's smile was one of delight at being able, for once, to turn the tables on her Yeoman.

Jen's own grin showed her own appreciation of Mac's rejoinder. "Ma'am, if we're going to talk this thing out, and try to make sense of it all, I'm going to have to jolt my brain awake... won't you join me in a cup of coffee?"

"I will, thank you." Mac followed Jen to the breakfast bar, where Jen busied herself with filter paper, water and coffee while Mac sat patiently until she had finished and the fresh coffee was brewing.

"Are you on your own, ma'am?" Jen, suddenly aware of a feeling of awkwardness, and trying to ease into the forthcoming discussion, was the first to break the silence.

"Yes," replied Mac, "I dropped Mattie off at Long Branch - at the Graham's place"

"Well, she'll be OK there, ma'am. I have to tell you ma'am that Mrs Graham sort of knows what's going on; we met, by chance, yesterday while we were shopping and she's worried about Mattie; ma'am, we met Louise Barr too; she knows something's wrong too, but says she doesn't want to know. "

"No, she would prefer not to get involved. But if Mrs Graham's worried, I assure you she's not half as worried as I am, Jennifer. From something Mattie said, I got the idea that this Caldwell was from Virginia, so I called Commander Manetti, you remember her, of course?"

Jen nodded in confirmation.

"Well because of the circles the Commander's family moves in, and the way she investigated Lieutenant Singer for Mr Rabb, I asked her to do some discreet digging into this Caldwell's background."

"Sounds like a plan to me, ma'am."

Both women fell silent for a moment. An exchanged glance was sufficient unspoken confirmation that they were both remembering that the first time Jen had used that phrase to Mac; they were arguing over who should go and eat while they were waiting to hear whether or not Bud Roberts was going to survive the operation to amputate his shattered leg.

Mac cleared her throat, which had somehow become constricted by the memory of that day and said a bit shakily, "I could use that coffee, now, Jennifer."

Jen, her own throat tightened, smiled mistily, and managed a "Yes, ma'am"

A few more silent moments passed as they pretended to sip their coffee while bringing their emotions back under control.

"Wow," said Jen eventually, "Where did _that_ suddenly come from?"

"Well, I guess we're both pretty strung out with this Mattie thing," suggested Mac.

"Yes, ma'am, maybe more than we realised!"

"So... as I was saying, I asked Commander Manetti to do a little bit of digging, and what she has found out worries me. No! It pisses me off! What I'd really like to do is get hold of this Caldwell and tear him a new one!"

"Not advisable ma'am. I can guess how you feel, but a hostile approach to him will only drive a wedge deeper between you and Mattie!"

"I tell you, Jennifer, I'm not far off wanting to do the same to Mattie! I'd do it too, if I wasn't afraid it would turn her into a martyr! I tried to tell her not wear her heart on her sleeve - and do you know what she said to me? - No of course you don't! She said, and I quote, 'I'm not ashamed of loving Stacy! Why should I hide it?' What's that all about?"

"That's not the only argument, though, is it ma'am?" Jen inquired gently. "I heard there was something about Mattie not being in your Army?"

"Yes, there was," admitted Mac, "and worse, she said that I wasn't her guardian, and had no rights over her. Oh, Jennifer, I like Mattie, but... but..."

"But she's not your flesh and blood, is she ma'am? And it was Mr Rabb who became her guardian, and then you married him, so it's all a bit...complicated, isn't it?"

"Yes, Jennifer it is complicated. It's not even as if Harm had adopted her. Oh, I know it shouldn't make any difference, but I feel like it ought to! Although I'd probably still be the wicked stepmother!"

"No, ma'am," was Jennifer's quietly spoken response, "you could never be that. Mattie is lucky to have you and Har... er... Mr Rabb in her life."

Mac flashed a half-smile in recognition of Jen's opinion, "It's alright, Jennifer, you can say 'Harm' in front of me."

"Ma'am."

"But back to Commander Manetti; the Caldwells are well known in Virginia, apparently their ancestors landed on Plymouth Rock, or long before the Revolution, anyway! They used to have considerable holdings in the Virginia Piedmont, as well as interests in ranches in Texas and New Mexico. Their ancestors did well by themselves, but the present family is notable only for its taste for an expensive life-style and nothing else. This Stacy Caldwell has a reputation as a player and a gambler - and not a very good one! According to Commander Manetti his father was no better, losing a lot of the family money on slow horses; while as for his uncle, _he_ was expelled from VMI, and failed to get into university, and finally burned through his capital in a couple of years, until he was packed off to South America with orders never to show his face in Virginia again! As for the land, the Piedmont holdings are gone, and the Sonoma vineyard is mortgaged to the last cent. So, Mr Caldwell is not the man he wants people to think he is!"

"No, ma'am," Jen replied thoughtfully, "but... that's all, or mostly about his family... does Commander Manetti have any discreditable evidence about _this_ Caldwell that would stand up in court?"

"You've been spending too much time around Lawyers, Jennifer! Yes, there might be, firstly there's the age difference; and although its only hearsay, apparently last year he persuaded some foolish girl back in Virginia to run away with him, but luckily her family found out before the event. The father brought some sort of pressure to bear and virtually had Caldwell run out of the state; it appears that's when Mr Caldwell decided to re-locate to California. The affair was apparently hushed up, you know how those old Virginia families can be, so it never even made the gossip columns, but the story is known."

"That's bad, ma'am, really bad. But how can I help? I've already tried to hint to Mattie that he's not the guy for her, but that just made her all defensive. I didn't push it, 'cause I'm hoping that if I'm there for her, she'll eventually come round."

"Thank you, Jennifer. That's all I could ask of you, and it's exactly what I was hoping for since I _am _the wicked step-mother in this case!"

"Ma'am, I shouldn't worry too much about that. If I know Mattie, she didn't mean what she said about you not being her guardian and all... It's that red hair she's got, sometimes it kinda heats up her brain, and she loses it, and says things she doesn't really mean, and I'll bet she's already sorry she did say it. But ma'am, I'm not really up to speed on this. What does Harm say? How come Mattie's not listening to him?"

"Well, Harm's stuck in DC, the Federal Grand Jury hearing, isn't going too well. He's really worried too; he's tried talking to Mattie a time or two, but he says it's like talking to a brick wall. We need him back here and... and I miss him"

Mac dropped her eyes and seemed to concentrate on her index finger, which was idly drawing circles on the surface of the breakfast counter. "There's something else, Jennifer." She hesitated and then drawing a deep breath continued, "I tried telling Mattie, that even if there was no age gap, she was still far too young to be thinking of getting married. Do you know what she said? She said if it was OK for me to marry young, then it was OK for her! I tried telling her that I was nineteen, not seventeen and that I was drunk, and that the whole thing was a disaster. She said that she had learned from my mistakes."

Jen winced, "Ouch! That must have been hard to hear, ma'am."

"Harder than you can know, Jennifer. Damn it, I thought I'd had a few problems with Chloe, but at least she never put me through crap like this!"

Jen, desperately trying to lighten the mood, and taking a gamble, smiled cheerfully, "Never mind, ma'am, she's a bit younger than Mattie, isn't she? So, she's still got time to pull the same sort of crap."

Mac jerked her head up to stare, appalled, into Jen's eyes, then as the sense behind the words made itself clear to her, she relaxed slightly, "Petty Officer," she said it tones of mock severity, "you are coming dangerously close to..."

"Insubordination, ma'am?"

"Yes, damn it!" Mac could not help but smile at the carefully expressionless, non-committal face Jen had maintained throughout this last exchange. "Can I take it then, that you're willing to help us out, here?"

"As always, ma'am."

"It's not part of your duties, Jennifer," Mac reminded her.

"No, ma'am." Not part of my naval duties, anyway, thought Jen.

"But thank you for that, Jennifer, and... thank you for letting me vent."

"Any time ma'am." Meeting Mac's questioning look, Jen insisted, "I mean that, ma'am."

"Thank you, Jennifer."

The sound footsteps in the hall and a knock at the door informed the two that Fran and Tim had returned from their walk. Mac gathered up her purse and jacket, and said, signalling a return to naval formality, "Thank you again, Petty Officer, I'll be glad to see you back at your desk in the morning," and opening the door to let herself out added, "Good morning Neumann, good morning Sergeant Martinez." and with brisk steps headed off down the hallway to the elevator.

Tim looked after her in surprised trepidation, "She... she knows my name..?" and in suspicion turned to Jen, "You... you... didn't tell her, did you?"

"I didn't need to, Tim," Jen grinned, "She's the Colonel!"

**Monday 24 September 2007**

The next morning marked Jen's return to normal duty at JAG. An habitually early riser, she had no problem fitting in her morning run with juggling shower, hairdryer and mirror time with Fran. Fran's suggestion that they return to car-pooling, however, she regretfully turned down, ruefully explaining that she would probably be working late for a while to get caught up on all that had happened in her absence.

Her forebodings were correct, and for the whole week she failed to return home before nine o'clock each evening. For the first two days the atmosphere at work had been strange. Mac's Sunday visit and the ensuing conversation had in some indefinable way changed the dynamic between Colonel and Petty Officer, but office routine and naval discipline allowed both women to draw a discreet veil over the events of the weekend and to maintain their working relationship.

Fran, not unnaturally, had been curious about the details of Mac's visit but Jen had kept silent, despite her friend's attempts to worm information out of her. Fran, however, had been covering Jen's workload while the latter had been away, and no fool herself, while handing back her duties to Jen had picked up on the subtle changes in Mac and Jen's relationship.

As far as Jen was concerned Mattie's troubles had to take a back seat while she read herself back into her job, and in all honesty she had very little time to worry about her young friend. The uniform of the day was still summer dress whites, and no matter how careful the wearer was, it was inevitable that a fresh uniform would be needed daily, and the required washing and ironing cut down further on Jen's time in when she could be considering her plan to separate Mattie from the totally unsuitable Stacy Caldwell.

Mr Caldwell did not return to San Diego that week, nor did he call Mattie. Mac began to hope that she had been making a mountain out of a mole-hill, and that Caldwell had only been amusing himself with a flirtation. These hopes she relayed to Jen, and could have borne, although her heart was aching for Mattie's pain, with a fair degree of tolerance her misery at Caldwell's neglect, if on the following Monday Mattie's behaviour had not suddenly changed from sadness to joy. Guessing that the change in attitude stemmed from the return of Caldwell to San Diego, Mac warned Jen to prepare herself for the battles ahead, the fallout of which she was sure that Jen would have to suffer.

Jen who also had been hoping that Caldwell's departure from San Diego and his subsequent neglect had put a stop to Mattie's infatuation, was equally dismayed at Mattie's sudden mood reversal. She had been the recipient of an ecstatic and almost incoherent 'phone call from Mattie the words tumbling out of her mouth in quick succession, telling her that "Stacy was back in town, and the reason he hadn't called was that almost upon his arrival in DC, he had been mugged and his cell phone stolen! And of course her number had been on speed-dial and he didn't have another record of it, so he couldn't call her, could he? Because Mac wouldn't let him call her on the house 'phone. But everything was alright now!"

Jen just about managed to confine herself to non-committal comments and weathered the storm of juvenile emotion with what she flattered herself had been considerable calm, although she was deeply perturbed. Fran's announcement that she was feeling a bit woozy and she was going to have an early night, was barely acknowledged, but the blonde girl's absence did allow Jen to indulge in profitless reflection. Her late night thoughts as she put herself to bed kept her awake for a considerable time, and no amount of tossing and turning or pillow-punching seemed to help.


	4. 02 October 2007

**Tuesday 02 October 2007**

Having eventually fallen asleep, she awoke late and heavy-eyed. Having overslept by a considerable margin, she dragged herself out of bed, and realising that if she was to make it to work on time, she would have to miss her run, headed for the shower, with the faint hope that if Fran had beaten her to it she would have finished by now, but there was no sign that Fran had yet visited the bathroom. Annoyed with Fran for oversleeping, but more annoyed with herself for the same fault, she wrapped herself in a towel and crossing the lounge, checked to see if the 'Do Not Disturb' sign was in use on Fran's bedroom door. The naked door-knob testified otherwise, and tapping on the door, Jen entered Fran's bedroom, and was shocked by what she saw. Fran was still in bed, her face streaming with sweat and her hair in limp rat-tails around her face. Her bed was piled with spare blankets, Fran had pulled on a heavy sweater over her customary T-shirt but was still shivering violently.

An alarmed Jen ran back to the bathroom and grabbed the old-fashioned oral thermometer from the medicine cabinet. Placing it gently in Fran's mouth, she placed two fingers against her neck to check her pulse rate. Both were considerably higher than they should have been. Fran's temperature was just under a hundred and one degrees, while her pulse rate was in the high nineties, and she was complaining of a sore throat, a severe headache, nausea, feeling feverish and that her chest hurt when she breathed and she felt as if she had been beaten all over.

Armed with this information, Jen guessed that Fran had somehow contracted a 'flu virus and made a couple of phone calls. The first to the Navy Medical Centre to ask for advice, the second to building security at JAG to ask that a message that she would be late, and that Petty Officer Neumann would be absent, could be passed to Lieutenant Simms, the office administrator.

Mixing a pitcher of orange juice with water and leaving it together with a tumbler on Fran's nightstand, Jen explained that the Medical Centre had tentatively confirmed Jen's 'flu diagnosis, and that the appropriate treatment was bed rest and fluids. "Listen, Fran," she added, I know you probably won't feel like eating, but I've made a sandwich for you, just in case you do. I've wrapped it in cling-film and it's here next to your OJ. Stay in bed as much as you can. Your cell phone's here as well, so if you need me, just call. I've entered the Medical Centre number into you cell, so if you get any worse just call them. Hon, I've got to get going, I'm late as it is and that witch Simms is going to ride my ass for days over this! You take care, and I'll check back in at lunch."

Fran's "I'll be OK, Jen - you get going," lacked conviction, but Jen had to take it on face value, and hurriedly completed dressing and left for duty.

On arrival at the office, she was at once taken to task by Lieutenant Simms for unauthorised absence, and in her usual intolerant manner the tall brunette refused to listen to any explanation. Jen, admonished in sight and hearing of the entire bull-pen felt her cheeks flame red with embarrassment, and knew that she would have to work hard to regain the respect of the junior Petty Officers in the room.

Finally dismissed to her duties, Jen sought the sanctuary of her office - in reality an ante-chamber to Mac's office - where she was soon immersed in the daily routine of 'phone calls, word-processing, dealing with enquiries and all the other routine tasks involved in being Yeoman to a head of department. As the calming influence of routine worked its magic, she found time to wonder at Simms' behaviour - it was so ironic, she thought, that Lieutenant Roberta Simms should have a surname that sounded the same as Lieutenant Harriet Sims yet the two officers were not only complete opposites in appearance, the one a tall slender, almost too thin brunette, the other a shorter, plumper blonde, they were complete opposites in temperament. The one always ready to find fault and ready to impute wilful wrong-doing where often it had been a case of simple human error; the other patient, innately kind, and tolerant of others' mistakes. Except, Jen remembered with a smile, the occasion when her temper finally had snapped and she had punched out Lieutenant Singer and given her a richly-deserved black eye.

Jen had not been at JAG HQ for that particular incident, she had still been assigned to the _Seahawk, _but she had heard the story from her predecessor as Yeoman, Petty Officer - now Lieutenant -Tiner; he had been outside the office door and had overheard the scuffle and seen Harriet Sims leave the office, massaging her right hand. The developing bruise on Lieutenant Singer's face had been all the further proof required.

Jen drifted off into reverie as she imagined somebody - maybe Lieutenant Walker, the petite, red-haired JAG lawyer - dishing out the same kind of punishment to Lieutenant Simms. Walker, except in the court room, had a temper nearly as fiery as Mattie's, and Jen thought if anyone was likely to take out the sanctimonious Simms, it would be Walker.

An almost shout of "Petty Officer! Are you asleep?" jerked Jen out of her day-dream. Horrified at being caught almost literally napping Jen started guiltily and looked up into Mac's stern but puzzled face. "Three times I've had to call you, Petty Officer, what the hell are you playing at?"

"Ma'am! Sorry, ma'am! A bit pre-occupied ma'am!"

Mac seemed about to deliver a reprimand but then paused, "Alright, Petty Officer, on my six!" She turned and stalked back into her office. Jen followed after with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Mac seated herself behind her desk and looked up at Jen, who froze into a brace and stared at the wall two feet above Mac's head.

Mac regarded her for a long minute, and at her command, "At ease, Petty Officer." Jen relaxed her posture. "What's going on, Petty Officer, it's not like you to lose focus. Is this about Mattie?"

"No, ma'am. I'm sorry, ma'am, it..."

"Won't happen again?" There was a hint of resignation in Mac's voice.

"How did you know I was going to say that, ma'am?"

"Because, Petty Officer, it's what you always say!"

"Yes, ma'am, sorry, ma'am!" Jen's response was crisp and sharp.

"Alright, if it's not Mattie, what is bothering you?"

"It's my room-mate, ma'am, Petty Officer Neumann, ma'am. She's not well ma'am."

"Is it serious?" Mac's tone was one of concern.

"No ma'am, well, I don't think so, I hope not."

"Alright then Petty Officer, back to your duties, and damn'-well straighten up and fly right! Understood? Good! Dismiss!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am." Jen executed a crisp about-face and left Mac's office, her emotions a combination of relief that she had got off so lightly and amusement at Mac's use one of Harm's aviator expressions instead of something more typically naval or marine-like.

A further call of "Petty Officer!" stopped her in her tracks, and re-entering Mac's office she kept a carefully neutral face.

"Yes, ma'am," she enquired.

Mac cast a fulminating look at her Yeoman. "Petty Officer, do you realise that you made me forget why I wanted you?"

"I'm sorry, no, ma'am, I didn't."

"H'mmm... alright." Mac held out a six-inch thick stack of folders for Jen to take, "What I wanted you for is that I need these draft reports typed and on my desk, ready for signature, by oh nine hundred hours tomorrow. Are you sure you can handle that between your periods of distraction?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Good, carry on."

On returning to her desk, Jen saw that 'message waiting' light was flashing on her 'phone, picking up the handset she was surprised to hear Petty Officer Martin's voice, "Jen, hi, it's Sam. Listen, Fran Neumann's just been onto the exchange, she says she wants you to call her back right away. Jen, she didn't sound too good, is everything OK? Let me know if I can help."

Jen smiled. Sam was a treasure. He was old for a Petty Officer, nearing the end of his career, but he and his wife Louise - known as Lulu - were universally popular among the enlisted men and women at JAG. They were an easy-going couple, with four children, all either at college or high school, who kept an open-door policy and were always willing to help out with baby-sitting, or providing a bed for visiting relatives, or whatever might be asked of them. It was so like Sam to offer help before he even know what he might be asked to do.

However, Jen realised that with the new reports that Mac had just handed to her, that she would not only have to re-prioritise her schedule for the day, but that she would have to work late in order to finish by the deadline. She dialled Fran's cell 'phone number and waited for an answer; Fran answered almost immediately, but her weak, croaking voice, as she begged her friend to come home alarmed Jen. Saying the she would do what she could, she replaced the handset

Jen gnawed her lower lip in frustration at her inability to rush home to her friend and thought furiously for a few seconds, and then coming to a decision, with an air of determination picked up the handset and punched in a number.

Three rings later a voice at the other end of the line said, "First Battalion, Motor Pool, Gunnery Sergeant Dixon, Sir."

Jen composed her voice, "Good morning, Gunny. This is Petty Officer Coates, Colonel MacKenzie's Yeoman, at JAG. Would it be possible to speak to Sergeant Martinez, please?"

"Is this official business Petty Officer?"

"Yes, Gunnery Sergeant it is, and no Gunnery Sergeant, I am not Sergeant Martinez's girlfriend, that pleasure belongs to Petty Officer Neumann."

"OK, then, please hold the line..."

The time passed frustratingly slowly as Jen, tapping her fingers impatiently on her desk, waited for Tim to come to the 'phone.

"Sergeant Martinez speaking."

"Tim, hi, it's Jen. Jen Coates. No! Don't interrupt just listen. This is supposed to be official business! How tight are you with your Gunnery Sergeant? Can you get away? "

"Why?"

"Fran's got the 'flu, she's at home in bed and I can't get away from the office. Can you get time off, or secure early and go and check up on her?"

"Alright, I'll try. I'll call you back, what's your number?"

Jen gave him her cell 'phone number amid urgent representations that he should get across to Ocean Beach as quickly as he could.

It seemed an eternity until Tim called her back to say that he had been forced to come clean to his superiors but that he had been able to take the rest of the day and that he was headed to the apartment.

With that problem temporarily solved, Jen was able to concentrate on her work. She missed lunch so that she could catch up on the time she had lost and carried on working through the afternoon and into the evening, unaware that the office was emptying around her.

At last she finished the last of the urgently needed reports and having carried out a final spell-check sent the documents to the printer. Waiting for the reports to be printed, Jen suddenly realised how tired she was and looking at her watch was shocked to see that it was past ten o'clock, and there was no-one else in the office except the duty seaman, whose job it was to answer any phone calls and make sure the office was clean and all cups and wastebaskets were squared away.

The lateness of the hour dismayed her; by the time she secured her office, drove back home and prepared a fresh uniform for the morning it would be midnight, if not later. And although Jen was quite prepared to party on a weekend, she had definite ideas about an appropriate bed-time during the working week, and midnight definitely did not tally with those ideas!

Resisting the urge to rush and so possibly compromise her work, she painstakingly collated the reports and ensured that they were locked away, before exchanging a 'goodnight' with the duty seaman and heading for her car.

Now the sun had gone down, there was enough of a chill in the air to make Jen wish for a jacket, as she hurried across the parking lot to her car. As she crossed the expanse of tarmac, her own heels clicking on the hard surface, she thought she heard other footsteps in the dark behind her. She halted for a second and listened, while surreptitiously feeling in her purse for her pepper-spray and simultaneously arranging the bunch of keys in her right hand into the form of a makeshift knuckle duster. Hearing nothing further, Jen reached her car and eased herself behind the wheel, making sure that the doors were locked. Breathing a sigh of relief she turned the ignition key and was reassured as the engine purred into life. Engaging the gears, Jen started the car in motion, turning through a complete three hundred and sixty degree circle so that the car's headlights might illuminate anybody else in the parking lot. Although this manoeuvre failed to reveal any lurkers, Jen could not shake the feeling that someone _had_ been following her, and it was with a feeling of shedding something unpleasant that she drove out of the parking lot onto Ward Road and towards the main gate on 32nd Street.

Jen debated with herself about telling the Marines at the gate about her feeling that she had been followed, but felt that by the time she persuaded anyone to take her seriously and then got back to the parking lot JAG shared with the Inspector-General's Office, the lurker, if there had even been one, would be long gone; besides it was late enough as it was and she just wanted to get home, get squared away for the morning and then get to bed. She was, she thought to herself, too tired even to eat, and then groaned in frustration as she remembered that she would have to look in on Fran and make sure that she was OK before she could turn in.

Determined to make a swift return to the apartment, Jen piloted the Escort on to the I-5 and headed north for the intersection with the I-8 before heading west for West Point Loma Boulevard and Ocean Beach. All was quiet on Cape May Avenue, and despite the lateness of the hour, Jen, still slightly shaken after her experience in the parking lot, was relieved to see that she would be able park right in front of her apartment block. Jen had kept a more than usually watchful eye on the rear-view mirror on the drive home, and although she was sure she had not been followed, it was with a deep sense of comfort that she locked the street door behind her and took the elevator to the third floor.

To her surprise, on entering the apartment, she found it in almost total darkness except for the subdued glow of the table lamp in the lounge area that revealed that Tim was still there, sitting in one of the armchairs. He looked up from the magazine he had been reading, and with a significant look in the direction of Fran's bedroom he put his finger to his lips in the universal sign for 'quiet'. Jen nodded and put her purse on the breakfast counter, and then reluctantly, she really wanted her bed, took a seat on the couch.

"How is she?" she asked quietly.

"I've only just managed to get her to go to sleep," Tim answered. "Jen, she's bad. If it's alright with you, I'm going to stay overnight and keep an eye on her. You look tired, and it's late. Get to bed; I'll see you in the morning."

"Yes, but what about you? You look wiped out too."

"Yeah, but I'm a Marine, we're tougher than Squids," his grin turned what could, in other circumstances, have been an insult into something approaching a term of affection.

Jen responded in kind, "Damn' Jarhead! Tim, I've got to get squared away for the morning before I can hit the rack, so if you like I can get you a towel and you can take a shower while I'm doing that."

"Are you saying that I stink?"

Jen chuckled quietly, "No, not yet... but there's no saying that you might not by morning."

Tim smiled and acknowledged "It's probable; yeah, I'd be grateful for the chance, but, no peeking mind!"

Jen, already at the closet, wadded the towel she had selected and threw it at the grinning Marine.

"Get," she said, "you know where the bathroom is."

Working swiftly Jen ironed a blouse, and pressed her skirt for the morning, and going to the kitchen sink took a nail brush to a spot on her white belt. Just as she finished, a fully dressed Tim re-entered the lounge area, vigorously rubbing his cropped head. "Thanks Jen, I feel much better for that. Where should I put this towel?"

"Oh... er... here, hang it on the hat pegs on the door, that way if you need it in the morning it'll be to hand."

With a smile and a half-salute Tim watched her go into her bedroom, before turning out the lounge area light and going to sit with Fran.

Jen's head had hardly hit the pillow before her eyes closed and the world was shut out. She slept dreamlessly but for what seemed a very short time, before she was awakened by Tim's voice urgently calling her name and by his fist pounding on her bedroom door. Turning on her bedside lamp, she called out, "OK, OK, I'm coming, and stumbling out of bed dragged on her robe and shoved her hair back out of her face. Looking at her watch she groaned, it was only half-past three in the morning.

Opening the door she found a panicked Tim staring at her with agonised eyes, "Jen, please, come quick, there's something really wrong with Fran..."

The look of fear on Tim's face was sufficient to dispel any anger Jen might have felt at her rude awakening, and she hurried after him to Fran's bedroom. The blonde girl was streaming with sweat and tossing under the pile of quilts and blankets, she was awake, but recognised neither Jen nor Tim and crying deliriously that she was alright, that she wanted her Mom, that she was hot and that she was cold.

Jen was appalled by Fran's condition, "Hell, Tim, how long has she been like this?"

"I don't know, maybe twenty minutes, I guess."

"You damn' fool! Why the hell didn't you call me earlier?"

"Jen. I did, but you were out of it, you wouldn't wake up! Jen, what are we going to do?" His voice was almost a plaintive wail, and Jen suddenly had the feeling that he had reverted to a small boy wanting the reassurance of a mother. The appeal in his voice almost had the effect of stilling the rising panic that Jen felt. Think! Think! She frantically told herself. Then a flash of memory came to her; Fran telling her about the couple who had moved into the apartment on the second floor - surely she had said one of them was a doctor!

With a curt, "Wait here!" to Tim, she fled the apartment and hurtled down the stairs to the next floor, with each step she took the panic threatening to overwhelm her. Banging on the door she begged silently, please, please be in! Please, please, please wake up! After a couple of minutes her hammering on the door brought results, a bar of light shone under the door and she could hear the sound of bolts being drawn. The door opened to reveal a tousled-haired, bathrobe clad man and behind and to one side of him a blonde woman, dressed in shorts and a singlet and holding a serviceable-looking automatic pistol in her hands. On seeing the distraught Jen, the woman half-lowered her pistol as the man asked, "Yes, what is it? Do you know what time it is?"

"Oh, thank God" cried Jen "Are you a doctor?"

"Yes, Tony Campbell, I'm a surgeon at Hillcrest, UCSD, what's wrong?"

"It's my friend, Fran, she's sick, I think she's dying!" wailed the now nearly hysterical Jen, almost collapsing with relief.

"Where is she?"demanded Campbell.

"Upstairs, third, floor," gasped Jen, "Please, please come!"

"Yes, I'm coming!" He looked over his shoulder at his partner and said, "Sal, I'm going upstairs with..." he looked enquiringly at Jen.

"Jen Coates."

He nodded in acknowledgement of the introduction and turning back to his partner said, "Give me a few minutes and then can you bring me a pair of jeans and a sweater, oh, and my cell; thanks, sweetie! Now, Miss Coates," he continued in calm tones, as he led Jen towards the elevator, "it is 'Miss' isn't it?"

"Uh... Petty Officer Coates," Jen managed to reply, as his matter of fact manner went some way to still her fears.

"Well then Petty Officer Jen Coates," he continued as the elevator came to a stop, "can you tell me what's wrong with your friend?"

"We thought she had the 'flu this... no... yesterday morning now, but she's got much, much worse tonight... no... this morning." Jen gave a half laugh, half sniffle, "I'm sorry doctor, I'm not usually so disorganised!"

"That's alright... Jen... I may call you Jen or... ?"

"Yes, that's fine, doctor," Jen replied, opening the apartment door and leading him into Fran's room, where Tim was trying to keep a struggling Fran in bed.

"Fran," he gasped, "calm down, honey, here's the doctor!"

"H'mm," said Cameron, "that's not good, let me have a look..."

"Tim, this is Doctor Cameron, he lives in the apartment downstairs. Doctor, this is Tim Martinez, Fran's boyfriend."

"Call me Tony," suggested Cameron, "And my patient is?" He enquired with a raised eyebrow, as he sat on the edge of Fran's bed.

"Fran Neumann, Petty Officer Francine Neumann," responded Jen.

"Right," Cameron muttered distractedly, "Now, lie still, there's a good girl," he said to Fran, and then as she broke into a deep-chested, wet, hacking cough, he lifted her shoulders off the bed raising her to a sitting position while she spasmed, tears of pain streaming down her face, looking at Jen he said sharply, "Towel... anything" and holding the proffered pillow-case to Fran's chin he said in a much gentler tone,"easy, easy now... hush... hush... there's a good girl."

He sounded as if he was soothing a child or perhaps a skittish horse Jen thought inconsequentially.

Fran's voice rose in a pitiful wail, "It hurts! I want my Mom..."

"Of course you do, sailor," he responded still in a soft voice, lowering her back to the pillows, "now just lie still for me so I can take a look at you..." He spent the next several minutes examining the agitated Fran, taking her pulse, and temperature, listening to her breathing and sounding her chest. When he had finished his brief examination, he looked at Tim and Jen. "Has she taken anything?"

Their denials were simultaneous, Jen adding somewhat shamefacedly that was as far as she knew. Fran, she explained had been on her own for the previous morning and some of the afternoon.

"Uh-huh, what about non-prescription drugs?"

"What like cough medicine or aspirin?" queried Jen.

"No, like crack, or speed, or coke?"

"Definitely not!" Jen was emphatic.

"No way!" was Tim's equally vehement denial.

"Ok, OK, I believe you!" exclaimed Cameron, "Sheesh! You don't have to bite my head off; I have to ask, it's my job to know. Oh... Sally, is that you? Come on in! You don't mind, do you...? Good. Sally, this is Tim and you've already met Jen". This was said as he slipped into the slacks that a now more modestly dressed Sally had brought him, a process made slightly comical as he fought to keep his bath robe closed until he had made himself decent. This aim having been achieved, he took off the bathrobe and over his T-Shirt, pulled on the sweater she had also brought.

"Tim, Jen, this is my wife Sally, Detective Cameron. Now, to be frank, I don't like the look of our young friend here. Like I said, I'm a surgeon and no expert physician, but I think what we have here is a case of pneumonia; so what I'm going to do is, I'm going to try a telephone consult with the on-call physician at the Naval Medical centre, it's just as near as Hillcrest, and I think that Fran will need to go to hospital, no... don't be alarmed; she'll need to have some tests to confirm the diagnosis, is all, but seeing as how she's in the navy, it will be better if she's treated by navy doctors. Now do either of you have the number for the Navy Medical Centre? You do? Can you call them for me?"

Jen waited for the ringing tone at the Medical Centre switchboard before handing her cell phone to Cameron.

"Hello, Naval Medical Centre? Good morning, I need to speak to an on-call physician. Yes... I'm Doctor Cameron from Hillcrest UCSD. Thank you, I'll wait... Hello, yes, this is Doctor Cameron. Yes, I've been called to attend one of your sailors, but I'm a surgeon, and... yes, yes, of course I'm in attendance! I think what we've got here is a pretty severe case of CAP, but I'd like the Petty Officer to be seen by someone who is better qualified in the field. Yes... I'll wait... That's apartment five, twenty-four thirteen Cape May Avenue, Ocean Beach, that's off Abbott Street. Thank you, Commander."

"Jen, the navy's sending an ambulance; it'll be about twenty minutes. I'll wait with your friend until it arrives. If you want to go with her, I suggest you get dressed."

Jen, suddenly conscious of the picture she must present: nothing on her feet, mismatched pyjamas and faded blue bathrobe, probably with dark circles under eyes and her hair a tangled mess muttered, "Oh God!" and shot across the lounge area to her bedroom.

By the time the ambulance arrived Jen although still looking tired had made herself presentable and was able to give the two Corpsmen a coherent account of Fran's symptoms and what had been done to alleviate them. In the meantime, Sally Cameron had managed, with Doctor Cameron's help, to get Fran into a fresh T-shirt and a pair of pyjama trousers, while Tim packed some more necessaries into her holdall.

The drive to the Medical Centre seemed to take no time at all, and yet also seemed to last forever. Happily, Fran, perhaps sensing that she was in professional hands seemed calmer, no doubt also benefitting from the pure oxygen administered to her by the Petty Officer Corpsman.

On arrival at the Medical Centre, Fran was whisked away to the examination room while Jen was left to cool her heels in the waiting area. It was only at this point that Jen realised that not only did she not have her car; she also didn't have her purse or her keys or her cell-phone! Never fully at ease in a hospital, Jen's peace of mind was not helped by reflecting on her own stupidity. After sitting and fuming helplessly for over an hour, and before she could decide how to extract herself from her self-made predicament, she was joined by Tim Martinez, who although tired was freshly shaved and in a clean, freshly-pressed uniform.

"Hey, Jen," he greeted her, rather nervously she thought. "Look, I hope you don't mind, but I borrowed your car to get back to barracks and get changed for formation. I've brought it here, and it's in the near corner of parking lot B; that's just the other side of the ER Ambulance parking zone. And here, I picked up your purse and keys from the apartment - I figure you'll need them! Jen, I really wanna stay, but I gotta go, one of my buddies followed me in his car, an' I don't mind the Gunny bawling me out, but it wouldn't be right if he ripped Pepe a new one too!"

Jen wasn't too happy with the idea of somebody driving her car without her permission, or even her knowledge, but she couldn't find it in herself to voice her concerns. Instead, gratefully accepting her property, she thanked Tim both for his help with Fran and for re-uniting her with her belongings. As she sat waiting for news of Fran Jen felt physical fatigue wash over her like an ocean swell. As well as her physical tiredness, however, Jen was emotionally drained and sat waiting for news in an peaceful, almost trance-like state. Fortunately she did not have much longer to wait before a white-coated figure approached. Jen got to her feet as he asked, "Petty Officer Coates?"

"Yes, sir."

"Petty Officer, I'm Commander Goodrich. I've just come to let you know that Petty Officer Neumann's diagnosis has been confirmed. It is pneumonia. Now, there's nothing to worry about, she's been started on a course of oral anti-biotics, and she'll be back to duty, limited duty that is, in five to seven days. We'll just have to see how it goes. I understand she lives off-base?"

"Yes, sir."

"H'mm, I see. Is there anyone who can stay with her, look after her?"

"Well, sir, there's only me, and her boyfriend, Sergeant Martinez; he's a Marine, First Battalion, Ninth."

"Ah, the Walking Dead! So neither of you is related to PO Neumann? Would you be able to take time off duty to look after her?"

"It would be difficult, sir," Jen replied fretfully, "I've just got back from TAD, and I don't think my CO would wear it. Especially as with Fran, PO Neumann I mean, sick we're already short-handed. It's not that I don't want to help, sir, it's just that I don't think..."

"Not to worry, Coates, I just needed to know how we were going to go forward from here. We'll keep her here for a few days, and see how she gets on. Now, we'll need to know how to inform her unit..."

Lieutenant Roberta Simms was seething with anger. Last night had been a fiasco. Her date had failed to show and she had been left waiting on her own in the cocktail lounge of the Del Coronado hotel, and had been escorted off the premises by an officious busy-body of an under-manager who had virtually accused her of being a call-girl! Now that damned Petty Officer who was so cosy with the Colonel was late - again!

Irritably, she scanned through the typewritten list of office requisitions, her favourite red marker-pen scoring through items and amounts that she thought unnecessary. Typical slip-shod work she thought, looking for the tell-tale initials at the bottom of sheet - ah, just as she'd thought! "Seaman Yates!"

The young, fair-haired seaman looked up nervously from his desk, "Ma'am?"

"Get your six over here Yates...! What the hell is this...this crap?"

The other heads in bullpen bent lower over their work as the Lieutenant continued her rant at the unfortunate youngster. Barely nineteen years old and only weeks out of 'A' School, the young seaman had swiftly become the Lieutenant's favourite whipping boy, but intervention was at best useless, and could even be counter-productive, provoking Simms to be even more vindictive. Jen, as a senior Petty Officer, had tactfully tried to defend Yates, pointing out to Simms that the boy _was_ only just out of' 'A' School, and that by choosing to reprimand him publicly, the Lieutenant was doing nothing to help promote either his self confidence or his job performance. The end result of Jen's intervention had been to make herself a second target for the Lieutenant's spite, and to cause Simms to intensify her attentions towards Yates.

At the conclusion of a ten-minute reprimand which almost had the effect of reducing Yates to tears of rage and frustration, Simms released him to his duties with an order to re-type and re-file the requisition. Having vented some of her spleen, she decided on a fault-finding walk through the bull-pen on her way to the galley for a mug of coffee. One day, she mused, she might get lucky and provoke Yates into insubordination; the opportunity to file charges against such a wilfully incompetent seaman was one to be relished.

Her walk-through the bull-pen to the galley was momentarily delayed when Petty Officer Third Class Gutierrez presented her with a bulging document pouch. Gutierrez was normally a cheerful man, with any other officer he might have made an informal comment along the lines of 'incoming paper'; with Simms, however, he trod warily and was careful to maintain strict formality, "The morning despatches, ma'am."

Simms, took a cursory glance through the contains of the pouch, routine reports, routine requests for legal assistance in drafting wills, queries about house purchases; nothing that couldn't wait until she'd had her coffee.

To her annoyance, on reaching the galley, she found the coffee jug, while still warm, was empty. Now she would have to brew another jug before she have her drink. Careful to spoon only the required amount into the filter, Simms carefully added one cupful of water to the reservoir.

Luckily, Simms was still in the galley when Jen finally slipped into the office. Stopping only to enquire of Petty Officer Wayne, whether or not he knew if the Colonel had anyone in her office, Jen received the not-totally-comforting reply, that, "Not as far as I know, but the Colonel has been asking for you."

Jen gritted her teeth, and pausing only to place her cover on her desk, and collect the urgently-needed reports, she quick-checked her uniform and then knocked on Mac's door.

The tone of Mac's "Enter!" did little to settle the butterflies in Jen's stomach, but attempting to maintain a poker-face she entered the office and placed the files on Mac's desk, and then stood to attention.

"The reports you requested, ma'am!"

Mac, for the moment ignored the stack of reports, and searched Jen's face, noting the signs of strain and the dark smudges under her eyes that were an indication of fatigue. She was about to deliver a blistering reproof, suspecting that Jen was trading on the greater degree of mutual intimacy that had developed due to Mattie's situation, however there was that in Jen's demeanour which suggested that Mac was missing something.

Mac continued looking at her delinquent Yeoman for a moment or two longer and then sternly asked, "A late night, Petty Officer?"

"Ma'am, yes ma'am!"

"Partying, Petty Officer? Midweek?" This time the tone was definitely caustic.

"Ma'am, no ma'am!"

"In that case, would you care to explain yourself, Petty Officer?"

"Ma'am, no ma'am! No excuses ma'am!"

"And if I ordered you to explain yourself, Petty Officer?"

"Ma'am, is the Colonel, in fact, ordering the Petty Officer to explain herself, ma'am?"

"Yes, Petty Officer!" exploded Mac rising to her feet and leaning forward so that her hands on her desk-top supported her upper-body weight, "the Colonel_ is_ damn'-well ordering the Petty Officer to explain herself; and the Colonel _is_ damn'-well telling the Petty Officer that it had better be a damn' good explanation..." Mac broke off her tirade in shock, as silent tears suddenly streamed down Jen's face. "Oh, for God's sake! - Petty Officer, shut the door!"

Jen's "Aye, aye, ma'am," was so stifled that it was barely audible, "I... I'm sorry, ma'am. It won't..."

"Yes, I know, Petty Officer, it won't happen again." Mac's voice had regained its accustomed even tenor, as she considered her Yeoman's uncharacteristic reaction to a minor reprimand. To see her normally competent and unruffled Yeoman so emotional was a unique and unsettling experience. During the past two years, Coates had been so dependable, that Mac had more than once, out of Jen's hearing of course, referred to her as "my rock". Petty Officer Coates, Mac recalled, had cheerfully withstood much more intense anger and violent squalls from Admiral Chegwidden during her early days at Falls Church - especially in the matter of persuading that irascible flag-officer to re-instate Harm's commission after the Chaco Boreal srew-up.

Mac fished in one of her desk drawers, and removing a box of tissues, pushed it across the desk towards Jen and then came around to the front of the desk, and indicating one of the two leather chairs facing it, and seating herself in the other, said, "Alright, Petty Officer, sit down. Now, for God's sake, what is going on with you? This is the second day in a row that you've been adrift, it's not like you to be unpunctual, and and you certainly don't normally react like this if I yell at you."

Jen, by this time had stemmed the flow of tears and although heartily despising herself for such an exhibition of weakness, was able to face her CO with some degree of composure.

"I'm sorry ma'am; really sorry. It's just that I've had a couple of late nights, and there's been a couple of other things..."

"Mattie?" asked Mac.

"No, ma'am, well... yes ma'am, I _am_ concerned about Mattie, but that's not it..."

"Well, Petty Officer, what is 'it'?"

"Ma'am, this is going to sound kinda foolish, but..."

"Go on."

"Well, ma'am, I had to work kinda late last night, and when I finished up it was dark... and when I was going to my car, I thought... I thought... well, ma'am, I thought I heard someone following me. Oh, no ma'am..." Jen continued, seeing the look of alarm that had flashed across Mac's face, "nothing happened, and I didn't see anyone, so maybe it was only my imagination, but... it kinda freaked me out."

Mac took her time before replying gravely, "Yes, it would, Petty Officer. Did you report this to security?"

"No ma'am. I thought about reporting it, but by the time they could've gotten anyone to the parking lot to check, anyone who might've been there would've been long gone." Somehow, just telling someone about the incident seemed to lift a weight off Jen's mind. She had, perhaps been too busy, and too worried about Fran, to realise just how much the incident had frightened and spooked her.

"How did you not see anybody, if anybody was there, Petty Officer? Why was it dark, were the lights off-line?"

"Oh, no ma'am, well... I don't think so, but the lights are switched off at ten, so..."

"Wait a minute, Petty Officer; are you trying to tell me that you were here after twenty-two hundred hours?"

"Well, yes, ma'am... there were those reports..."

"Jennifer, no reports, no matter how important I might think they might be, are worth putting yourself at risk. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am, but..."

"But me no buts, Petty Officer. That's an order - don't take stupid chances with your safety."

"Yes, ma'am".

Mac continued to search Jen's face for a minute or two, and then asked, "If it was gone twenty-two hundred when you left, what time did you get home?"

"Oh, I don't know for sure ma'am, maybe twenty-three hundred, or a little after."

"H'mm, that's not so late... so why...? Mac's voice petered out. She wasn't quite sure where this line of questioning would lead, a certain suspicion had suddenly popped into her mind, and she surely didn't want to pry in Jen's private life.

"Ma'am, Fran, Petty Officer Neumann, that is, got worse ma'am; we were sat up with her for a while before the ambulance came..."

"We?"

"Yes, ma'am; Sergeant Martinez and me and the doctor."

"Ambulance? You called a doctor for her?" Mac's voice took on the rising inflection of surprise, even while she ignored the apparent possibility that Sergeant Martinez was sharing the apartment with Neumann and Coates

"Yes, ma'am, he's our downstairs neighbour."

"She's that sick? I thought you said yesterday that she was a little unwell?"

"Yes, ma'am, we all thought she had the 'flu, but the doctors say it's pneumonia."

"And the ambulance?" persisted Mac.

"She had to go into hospital, ma'am," and pre-empting Mac's next question, Jen added, "She's at the Naval Medical Centre, ma'am."

"Did anyone go with her?"

"Yes, ma'am, I did."

"And how long were you there, Petty Officer?"

"Oh, about two hours, I guess, ma'am."

Mac once more studied her Yeoman's face. "How much sleep did you get last night, Petty Officer?"

"Uh... about two, maybe three, hours, I guess, ma'am."

"I see," responded Mac. "Now, Petty Officer, why don't I know that one of my people is in hospital?" she asked, in a level voice.

"Well, ma'am, I guess because I was late, and I haven't gotten the daily state to you yet."

"So... you're late, and the whole office grinds to a halt? No, Petty Officer...I don't think so." Mac continued to study her Yeoman. "Alright, Petty Officer, you're no good to me in your present state. Take the rest of the day; go home, get some rest and take control of yourself. Come back in tomorrow - on time, and prepared for work - or I'll be on your six so fast you'll think I'm a SAM. Understood?"

"Ma'am, I'm OK, really, I don't need..."

"Petty Officer, that was not a suggestion. I don't care what you need or don't need. I care about what I need; and what I need is a Yeoman who is here when I need her to be here and when she is here, can do her job!"

Jen, recognising the note of finality in Mac's voice, and reminded of a similar lecture she had once received from the Admiral, got to her feet and answered in the only possible way, "Aye, aye, ma'am!"

Mac watched her Yeoman leave the office, collect her cover and head for the elevator.

Mac, aware that the Medical Centre routinely informed the chain of command when a service member was hospitalised, was annoyed at the failure of her staff to let her know that one of their co-workers had been taken so ill as to require out-of-hours medical attention, and was determined that she would find out who was responsible for this lapse. In the meantime, she would have to find somebody to handle Jen's desk for the day. Not that they would be able to complete all of the Yeoman's duties, but they could at least answer the damn' telephone.

Leaving her office, she walked out into the bull-pen and cast her eyes over her staff. It would be difficult making a choice; they were all competent; they wouldn't be here if they weren't. No, she had better things to do, "Lieutenant Simms!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Lieutenant Simms, detail someone to take Coates' desk for the day, please."

Simms had witnessed Jen's departure from the office, and now that the Colonel was asking for a replacement, it seemed that perhaps the bumptious Petty Officer had at last exhausted her CO's patience. The glow of pleasure she experienced led her into a minor betrayal; her "I'll be glad to ma'am," meeting with a quizzical look from Mac.

Simms hesitated for a few moments, it would be a difficult choice, they were all as ineffective as each other. Finally her choice was made. With an inward smile she said, "Yates, take over PO Coates' desk". Yates was bound to make mistakes, and given the Colonel's recent mood, Simms thought that would be enough to ensure his swift re-assignment.

The unfortunate seaman nervously took his place at Jen's desk, his diminishing self-confidence not helped by Lieutenant Simms last whispered words to him, "When you screw-up, sailor, I'll file charges for dereliction of duty".

The Lieutenant rapped on the Colonel's doorjamb, and in response to Mac's invitation, entered the office. "Ma'am, I have instructed Seaman Yates to man the Yeoman's desk."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"And ma'am, the morning states, ma'am. I'm sorry they're late, ma'am, but we are a bit short-staffed this morning."

Mac took the proffered file, ignoring the Lieutenant's last comment, and glancing through it saw that, yes, there was an advisory from the Medical Centre, 'PO2 Neumann, F M, JAG JSLT, diagnosed CAP, admitted 0525 hrs, Sep 13, 2007'.

"Have you read through these, Lieutenant?" asked Mac in a deceptively mild tone.

"I did glance through them, ma'am, just routine stuff." Simms admitted.

"And do you think Lieutenant, that the admittance to hospital of one your staff is 'just routine'?" There was now a definite edge to Mac's tone.

Simms' face flooded with colour, "Uh... I must have missed that, ma'am. I mean, everyone was accounted for this morning, except for PO Coates who was UA..."

"Lieutenant, how can you miss a MedCen advisory? It's not as if we get one every day, and certainly not with 'JAG JSLT' written all over it! And incidentally, PO Coates was not UA; she was at the Medical Centre, looking after a subordinate!"

Mac knew that while strictly factual, her last statement was not strictly true; Jen had not been worrying about a subordinate, but she had been worrying about a friend.

"Lieutenant," Mac continued, "I know you run a tight ship, and I know that your motivation is that this office runs as effectively and as efficiently as humanly possible, but it might be worth considering that you are dealing with people - humans - as well as with regulations and protocol."

"Yes, ma'am," was Simms' stiff reply. "Permission to carry on ma'am?"

Mac sighed silently in frustration at her inability to communicate with Simms, "Yes, Lieutenant, dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am"

Simms left Mac's office, the red flags of humiliation flying in her cheeks. Damn Gutierrez for not highlighting that MedCen advisory for her! The little wetback had done it on purpose! He'd pay for making her look stupid!

'Dear God', thought Mac, as she resumed her chair, 'another Loren Singer! Thank the lord though, that this one isn't a lawyer'.

Talking of lawyers, it was time she reviewed the current assignments. On the whole, she was well satisfied with her team's performance so far, but a change of assignments would help keep them sharp. She remembered how reluctant Bud had been initially, not wanting to leave his comfort zone, when Admiral Chegwidden had first discussed his re-assignment from Falls Church to a ship or an overseas post. But that would have to wait for another day. First she had one more 'phone call to make, then she needed to brief Seaman... Seaman... damn! What name had Simms just given her? Bates...? No! Yates! Yes, that was it... Seaman Yates. She mentally reviewed what little she knew of him: a youngster, just barely qualified. She had of course interviewed him on his assignment, and remembered him as being polite, if a little nervous, but that could be explained by the gulf between their respective ranks. He had a trace of a mid-west accent she remembered, so at least he would be intelligible on the 'phone. The 'phone, dammit, the 'phone.

Quickly flicking through her desk-top directory, she soon found the number she wanted, and punched it in to her direct line 'phone.

"Provost Marshal's Office, Master Sergeant Bannerman, speaking, sir". The voice was that of a woman.

"Master Sergeant, good morning, this is Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie-Rabb at JAG JSLT. I'd like to speak to the PM, please."

"Certainly ma'am, I'll put you through."

A couple of seconds silence was followed by a confident male voice on the other end of the line, "Good Morning, this is Lieutenant Colonel Picton, how may I help you Colonel?"

"Good, morning, call me 'Mac', please. I'm not sure if this really falls under your influence Colonel, but it concerns base lighting at night. I thought that as it might be considered a security issue, you might have some say in it?"

"Call me Tom, Mac. Yes, base lighting could definitely be a security issue..."

"Well, Tom, it's a bit complicated... As you probably know, the admin area, unlike Ops, is pretty well deserted after normal office hours?"

"Uh-huh.

"From time to time, though, some of my staff are required to work late. I have a number of female staff, and last night one of them felt that she was being followed across the parking lot. She didn't see anyone, but still... and I was wondering whether an adjustment could be made to the lighting times, maybe keep them switched on until twenty-three fifty-nine hours, say?"

"Mac, I'd like to say 'yes' and have the timings altered immediately, but no can do. I have to tell you that you are not the first CO who has asked for something similar. Unfortunately the question of lighting and electricity supply falls under the heading of budgeting, and I do not have the authority to make those kinds of decisions. I'll do what I've done before; I'll pass your input up the chain of command to the base XO, and in the meantime, I'll give orders to my guys to step up their patrols around the admin area after twenty-two hundred hours. I'm sorry, Colonel, until the chain of command authorises more expenditure, that's all I _can_ do."

"I understand. Thank you, Tom. Please keep me informed."

"That I will, Mac, that I will."

Mac replaced the handset, not really comforted by the conversation. Why is it, she asked herself, that men, particularly, those in high-ranking positions never seemed to care about personnel safety until it was too late. Mac fought off the impulse to specify female personnel safety. She prided herself on having achieved her present position by hard work and by not expecting any favours purely by virtue of her gender, but at the same time, she was realist enough to know, and her own building-to-car routine was based on the fact, that female personnel faced different and possibly greater dangers on base than their male counterparts.

She thought for a few moments, and then scribbled a few lines on a sheet of her legal pad, and then rising, opened the door to her office and stood at the Yeoman's desk. Yates sprang to attention, his face a picture of confusion. He had been left without direction for the last ten minutes, and with no real idea of what his new and, he hoped, temporary duties involved.

"At ease, Yates," Mac suggested, with a hint of a smile. "I want this typed up, and posted on all the notice boards in this office, by lunch-time please."

She was pleased to see that Yates not only took the sheet of paper from her, but read it through to ensure he could read her hand-writing. "Aye, aye, ma'am."

"And I'd like you to pass the word to Commanders Coleman, Sturgess and Blaine, and Lieutenants Matthews, Grant, Simms, and Graves to join me in the conference room in ten."

"Aye, aye ma'am! Ma'am, when I've done that, ma'am, what should I do next?"

"Can you brew coffee, Yates?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Good, once you've passed the word, get me a cup please, black, with two sugars."

"Aye, aye, ma'am."

"And after that, Seaman, I shall be out of the office, probably for the rest of the day, so all I need you to do today is take any messages that come in, and tell any callers that I am unavailable."

"Aye, aye, ma'am. Ma'am, with the Colonel's permission?"

"Carry on."

"Ma'am, if anybody should ask, may I tell them where the Colonel will be?"

"Yes," agreed Mac, "you may. You may tell them that I shall be at the MedCen, probably until about seventeen hundred hours, and then I shall be at home. In an emergency, I can be called on my cell, or on my home 'phone number. You should find both numbers in PO Coates' desk directory - I'm sure she will have protected her computer files. If you are not sure whether or not something is an emergency, ask someone responsible, if there is no-one to ask, then assume it is an emergency and call me, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am, understood, ma'am," Yates was lightly perspiring as the breadth and depth of his new responsibilities began to dawn upon him.

Mac smiled slightly, and resisting the urge to tell him 'not to sweat it' she confined her remarks to, "Relax Seaman, you'll do fine," and turning re-entered her office, closed the door behind her and returned to her padded, leather upholstered chair. Leaning her elbows on the desk she rested her head in her hands, and groaned to herself, 'God, I suddenly feel old - was I ever that young?'

A gentle knock on the door a few minutes later gained access for Yates, he was carrying the promised cup of coffee, which he placed within Mac's reach.

"Ma'am, I have passed the word as the Colonel ordered, and your staff are waiting for you in the conference room."

Mac gulped down the near-scalding and surprisingly good coffee, then collected her cover and briefcase and made her way along the hallway to the imposing double doors of the conference room and entered, the seven officers present rising to their feet as she did so. Mac gestured to them to resume their seats, saying as she did so "As you were, as you were."

"Thank you all for joining me at such short notice," she continued, taking her own seat at the head of the conference table, "I know you are all very busy, but this won't take long; there is only one item I need to cover. It has come to my attention that the admin area exterior lighting is switched off at twenty-two hundred each night, leaving the area, and particularly the parking lot in darkness. A female member of staff has recently reported that while crossing the parking lot after twenty-two hundred hours, she was being followed. I know that occasionally we all have to work late - it goes with the territory, but, _with immediate effect_ and until further orders, no member of staff is to work later than twenty-one forty-five hours. I do not want to find out that a member of my command has been mugged, robbed, injured, assaulted or worse, just because they felt they absolutely must finish any given task that night! I shall be instructing building security to carry out a sweep of the offices at twenty-one thirty hours each working day to ensure that any staff still present are in the process of securing. Do I make myself clear, ladies and gentlemen?"

A chorus of "Yes, ma'am" and "Yes, Colonel" satisfied Mac that her words and the meaning behind them had been understood by her senior staff.

"Lieutenant Simms, I am having Yates print out a Special Order of the Day concerning this matter, which he is to post on all notice boards within this building. Ask him for an additional copy. I would like you to read it out to all enlisted in the bull-pen before they secure for lunch. Thank you. Are there any questions? No? Good, dismissed."

The assembled officers filed out of the conference room, and Mac, collecting cover and briefcase, headed for the parking lot to collect her bright red Mustang before leaving for the Naval Medical Centre to visit Fran Neumann and to check on her condition.

While Mac was holding her brief conference, Petty Officers and brothers-in-law Wayne and Gutierrez had held a mini-conference of their own. The subject of their short meeting was Seaman Yates. Neither of the two liked what was happening in the office, and neither felt that Yates was being given a fair chance to prove himself. The outcome of the conversation was that Wayne spoke to Yates and Gutierrez went in search of Sam Martin.

Petty Officer Second Class Wayne, 'Duke' to his friends, was a reasonable facsimile of his famous namesake, standing over six feet in height, and correspondingly broad shouldered. He had played football, as a running back, in high school, and had at one time been under consideration for a place on the navy team. His height and build were made even more intimidating by a spectacularly broken nose, which had never been properly reset. His ferocious appearance however belied his true nature. He was a caring, gentle father to his son and daughter, and after six years of sometimes tempestuous marriage was totally devoted to his diminutive and excitable wife Juanita, who ruled the Wayne household with a stream of voluble Spanish, most of which Duke believed were cusswords.

Wayne strolled into the Yeoman's office on the pretext of delivering some paperwork for Mac, and took the opportunity to ask the younger man how he was doing.

"I'm doing OK, I think, Petty Officer," said Yates, "the Colonel only really wants me to answer the phone and take any messages for her. And even I can handle that" he added with a touch of bitterness.

"Listen, Yates," quietly said Wayne, "If there's anything that you're not sure of, not sure what to do with, come to me or PO Gutierrez, got that?"

"Yes, thank you, Petty Officer".

Meanwhile Franco Gutierrez had tracked down Sam Martin. The older man was taking a break, drawing meditatively on the ancient briar pipe that had once given him the nickname of 'Popeye', on one of the circle of benches that backed against an ancient elm tree in the building's back area. The conversation between the two revolved around the subject of Lieutenant Simms, and what legitimate steps could be taken to cope with her spiteful persecution of Seaman Yates.

Jen returned to the apartment on Cape May Avenue, almost too exhausted to think. One way or another it had been a hell of a last twenty-four hours. The physical tiredness was something with which she could cope, but the stress of dealing with a possible attacker, Fran's sickness and Lieutenant Simms's bitching and then the raking down from Mac had drained her emotionally. It was taking all of what was left of her emotional reserves to prevent her from total collapse and bursting into helpless tears.

Looking around the apartment didn't help. Although Jen had been alone there often enough, it was always with the sense that Fran would soon come bursting through the door and fill the space with her energy. Today, the apartment felt, empty, cold and unfriendly. There was work to be done, the place, in Jen's opinion, looked as if a bomb had gone off, but she was too tired to square anything away just yet; maybe if she got a couple of hours rest, she might feel more inclined to tackle the mess. In an almost zombie-like state, Jen went through to her own bedroom. Looking with distaste at her crumpled bed, she was still in no mind to re-make it right now, so stripping off her uniform blouse and skirt, letting the former drop onto the floor, but making the huge effort required, successfully placed the latter upon a hanger.

Pulling on her pyjama bottoms, Jen chose a fleeced sweatshirt, and collapsed onto her bed, and pulling the covers over her shoulders, she closed her eyes and dropped straight into a deep, dreamless, refreshing sleep.

It was still light when she awoke, but the sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window told her that it must be evening. Jen sat up in bed and hugged her knees. She sat still for a couple of minutes, re-evaluating the events of the past twenty four hours until her growling stomach made her aware that she was ravenous. It was now Tuesday evening, and Jen suddenly realised that she hadn't eaten since Sunday evening's meatloaf. Half-smiling at the ridiculous nature of her self-neglect, she threw off the covers, and jamming her feet into her worn-but-comfortable slippers, Jen went through to the kitchen and investigated the contents of the 'fridge. It was accepted between the two room-mates that Fran was the chief cook and Jen the chief bottle washer, but she wasn't quite helpless in the kitchen. The 'fridge held sufficient ingredients for Jen to decide upon an omelette, with a crusty roll and a bowl of fresh-fruit salad to follow.

The simple meal was quick to prepare and almost as quick to devour. The washing up, including three coffee mugs left over from Sunday evening, took only a few minutes. The coffee left in the jug had taken on a deep purple hue and a decidedly bitter aroma, and definitely needed to be thrown away. Jen debated making a fresh pot of coffee, but decided against it on the grounds that if she wanted to sleep tonight, then caffeine probably wasn't a good idea.

She did, however need to get as fresh uniform, or at least a fresh blouse ready for the morning. Once she'd done that she decided, she would tackle Fran's room. If nothing else, Jen was certain that Fran would appreciate clean, fresh sheets on her bed when she returned home from hospital.

Home. Now, there was a word she had rarely used. Jen thought back over the various places she had lived; her parents' house hadn't really been a home after her mother had died; the various friends' apartments and squats where she had begged the use of the couch, or tolerated the unwanted sexual advances of male acquaintances - and a female acquaintance on one occasion, Jen remembered with a giggle, although it hadn't been funny at the time - in return for a roof over her head, had most certainly not been home. Neither had living on base nor aboard ship been homelike. The first apartment she had shared with three other female Petty Officers, in DC had been a disastrous litany of no closet-space, purloined panty-hose, sour milk in the otherwise empty 'fridge, damp underwear hanging over the bath-tub, a never-ending succession of morning skirmishes over the use of the shower, broken hairdryers and finally, Lynn Wheeler's outrageous and unpaid telephone bill for calls to her boyfriend in Okinawa. That had been the last straw, and although she'd had certain reservations, she had eventually been glad of Harm's offer to share with Mattie, and that peculiar almost-family-like setup had really been the first home she'd had since her mother's death.

Jen was suddenly surprised to find that while she had been musing, she had been ironing her blouse on auto-pilot. Lifting it up to the light she critically checked her handiwork and nodded in satisfaction. She had been lucky that she hadn't scorched it through her inattention. That would definitely have meant a trip to the Base Exchange to buy a replacement - a trip Jen was desperately trying to put off until after her next pay cheque.

It was still daylight outside - just - and Jen was by no means ready to return to bed; she reckoned she had slept from about half-past eleven in the morning right through to seven in the evening, in her opinion that was about as much sleep as anyone needed in a normal day. Having tidied the kitchen area, wiped down the breakfast bar, and cleared the clutter in the lounge area, Jen opened Fran's bedroom door and nearly recoiled from the smell of stale sweat and sickness. Her first priority was to lever open the skylight that served Fran as a window, to allow fresh air into the room; her second was to strip the bed right down to the mattress and stuff the soiled bedding, pyjamas, T-shirt and sweater into a pair of bin liners taken from the roll stored under the kitchen sink. Regretfully she decided to postpone laundering them until tomorrow. The blankets she folded and placed on the side table next to the door, to remind her to take them to the cleaners in the morning.

Sorting out Fran's room made her remember with a guilty start, that she should have checked on her friend's condition. Rummaging through her purse, she extracted her cell 'phone from its depths and dialled in the number for the Medical Centre.

"Hi, good evening, I'm trying to check up on the condition of Petty Officer Neumann, from the JAG office. She was admitted this morning with pneumonia."

"Neumann? One moment please." The pleasant male voice was replaced by the sound of a telephone ringing at the other end of the line.

"Calvin Graham Ward, Lieutenant Copplestone."

"Good evening ma'am, I'm trying to get some information on Petty Officer Neumann, she was admitted this morning by Commander Goodrich. She has pneumonia."

"Who am I speaking with, please?"

"Uh... sorry ma'am. I'm Petty Officer Coates."

"Are you related to the Petty Officer?"

"No ma'am, I work with her, and we're room-mates too."

"I'm sorry, Petty Officer; I can't release any details of your friends' condition."

"Uh... I understand, ma'am. Can I at least ask if she's permitted visitors?"

"Yes... I think that's OK..."

"Could you tell her, please ma'am, that I called, and I'll come and see her tomorrow?"

"Petty Officer Neumann is sleeping right now, Petty Officer, but I'll make sure she's told when she wakes up."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Jen pressed the 'end call' button on her cell 'phone with a slight feeling of dissatisfaction and disappointment. It was no use, she knew, trying to argue her case over the 'phone and she felt like kicking herself for not going to see Fran before starting on the housework. But if she was totally honest with herself, she really hadn't felt up to making the effort of getting dressed and driving to the MedCen.

It was still too early to go to bed, she thought, and she didn't feel in the mood for watching TV or a DVD. Feeling at a loose end, she wandered aimlessly into Fran's room, checking to see if there was anything she had overlooked, when her eye was caught by the array of paperback novels on the wall shelf. Most of the authors she had never heard of, but then again, she admitted inwardly, she had never been one for reading for pleasure. She'd had sufficient adventure in her own life so as not to need to read about other peoples' adventures, real or imaginary. Picking up one of the slimmer volumes at random, she wandered away to her own room, where she decided that a long hot soak would help her relax, and possibly help her in getting back to sleep. Undressing, she pulled on her bathrobe, and taking the novel with her, she moved into the bathroom, where sitting on the edge of the tub she started to flick through the pages while she waited for the tub to fill.

It hadn't been too many minutes when the absurdities of the story she was reading and the improbable virtues of the heroine caused a grin of amusement to cross her face, and despite her scoffing at Fran for reading such nonsense, she quickly found herself caught up in the extravagant convolutions of the plot. The bath having been run, she sprinkled in some bath salts, and immersed herself in the warm fragrant water.

Closing her eyes, just for a second, Jen surrendered to the sensation and wondered if this was anything like the sensory deprivation baths she had heard about... H'mm, interesting thought... she must ask someone who had tried it...

It was dark when Jen opened her eyes and the water was barely still warm. Hastily stepping out of the bath, a shivering Jen pulled on her bathrobe, pulled the cord to switch on the bathroom light and saw to her dismay that she had dropped Fran's book into the bath water. Fishing the ruined book out of the water, she placed it on the bath stool, and hoped that she would be able to replace it before Fran got home from hospital - besides, she grinned at her own foolishness - she'd like to find out how the heroine extricated herself from the mess she had gotten into. Damn it, thought Jen, I'm hooked!

Still inwardly laughing at herself, Jen donned a fresh pair of pyjamas, and for the second time that day snuggled under the covers and closed her eyes.


	5. 03 October 2007

**Wednesday 03 October 2007**

Her alarm clock woke a much-refreshed Jennifer Coates at six o'clock the next morning. Swinging back into her morning routine Jen was dressed, out on her run, back, showered, breakfasted and uniformed by a quarter past seven. Leaving the house in good time, she was at her desk on the stroke of eight. She leafed through the messages left for both her and Mac, and pushing those meant for her to one side, she sorted the notes intended for Mac into order of urgency.

Checking her watch, she saw she had about ten minutes before she could expect Mac's arrival, and buzzing with energy, she navigated her way through the now-busy bull-pen to the galley, where she found Seaman Yates busy with filter papers, coffee grounds and water. She watched him for a few moments, nodding approvingly as he finished his preparations and activated the coffee machine. Nervously, he looked over his shoulder at Jen and asked, "Is everything alright, ma'... I mean, Petty Officer?"

"Everything's fine Seaman, you're doing a great job, both in here and in the bull-pen," she reassured him, and leaning slightly towards him, she added quietly, "and don't let anybody tell you different."

Yates, unused to encouragement since his arrival at JAG, and totally unused to compliments from attractive young women, blushed to the roots of his hair, muttered something incoherent and fled the galley, leaving Jen staring after him in bemusement. Then shaking her head, she poured two cups of coffee, one for her and one for Mac and turned towards the door. Before she got to the door however, it was blocked by Petty Officer Sandra 'Sandy' Dennis, and Seaman Paula Lawson, the faces of both were alight with amusement, and their smiles widened into broad grins as they saw Jen alone in the galley. "Why, Petty Officer Coates," said Sandy, in a pronounced Alabama drawl, "Jus' what have y'all been sayin' to poor li'l Rowdy?"

Jen had the good sense not to become defensive, and turning a bewildered look towards the other two girls, and shaking her head said in helpless voice, "I really don't know... I just said that he had made a good pot of coffee, and he took off like the devil after a yearling!"

The pair laughed and made way for Jen to return to her office. Despite Jen's seeming coolness, she was well aware of the potential danger in the situation. While she knew that the exchange between herself and Yates was perfectly harmless - well if you discounted her implied criticism of Lieutenant Simms it was - malicious, or even careless, gossip on the part of Dennis or Lawson could have a disastrous effect on her career.

Oh, the hell with them, she thought, if the pair gossiped, then so be it. If she ignored any references to the scene that they might make over the next week or so, then there was a more than fair chance that the whole thing would blow over. In the meantime she would have to be careful not to be alone with Yates, while at the same time she must not give the impression that she was avoiding him. Either of those two sets of circumstances could easily give rise to even more talk. The arrival of Mac put an end to her reflections and rising to her feet she greeted her CO, "Good morning, ma'am!"

Mac stopped and took a few seconds to examine Jen's appearance. Apparently satisfied with what she saw, she returned the greeting and asked in her normal, friendly voice, "Anything earth-shattering there, Petty Officer?"

Jen, accepting by Mac's tones that peace had broken out between them, hurried around her desk to open Mac's office door, and followed her into the inner office, "Nothing too startling ma'am, most of it routine, 'please-call-me back' stuff. But there's one message from General Cresswell, he says it's not too important, but he would appreciate an early return call, and there's one from Colonel Picton, the Base PM, he would like you to call him at your earliest convenience, and your coffee, ma'am!"

"Thank you, Petty Officer. Is everything OK now?"

"Yes, thank you. I guess it was mostly plain tiredness ma'am. I just about slept the clock round when I got home...Ma'am, do you have a minute?"

Mac looked surprised, it was not like her Yeoman to make demands on her, but the earnest expression on Coates' face signalled something out of the ordinary. "Yes, of course, Coates."

"Ma'am, this may sound strange, but last night, while I was clearing up the mess in the apartment, I was thinking that I needed to get it done for when Fran comes home..." Jen tailed off in confusion, not quite sure how to continue.

"Go on, Jennifer," Mac quietly encouraged her.

"It was that word ma'am," Jen swallowed visibly as she once again fought her emotions back under control, "'Home'. I suddenly realised that except for those months I shared with Mattie, this place is the nearest thing I've had to a home since my mother died. I'm sorry, ma'am, I... I don't know why I'm telling you this. I... I'd best get back to work, ma'am."

"Yes, go on Petty Officer, dismissed". Mac said gently.

Mac, left alone by Jen's departure, was left wondering about the human contradiction that was her Yeoman. For all her years of experience and hard knocks, Coates remained optimistic, and for the most part cheerful, with a hint of mischief in her eyes; there was still something essentially innocent about Jennifer Coates. She was intelligent, practical, efficient and competent, coolly analytical yet fiercely loyal and protective towards those for whom she cared; she was firm with her subordinates when she needed to be, but her sense of natural justice, and yes, that inner innocence, could still lead her to be outspoken to the point of insubordination with her superiors. She could get blazingly angry over injustices, and could still get misty-eyed over an injury that had happened to a friend nearly five years ago, yet could show solid good sense in dealing with an immediate crisis.

Mac sighed, and once more blessed her good fortune in finding not just a damn' fine Yeoman, but a role model who she hoped would continue to be an example to Mattie.

Mac gave herself a mental shake and picked up the sheaf of messages that Jen had brought to her. At first, she was puzzled by the spiky, rather angular script, so different from Jen's normal rounded handwriting, and then realised that these messages must have been taken yesterday by Seaman Yates. She examined them more closely noting that the time on each message had been recorded precisely, no approximations here, '1436 hours', and '1503 hours', where even Jen might have written '1435' and '1505'. Mac wondered for a moment, could this be the Seaman deliberately adding detail in order to impress his CO? A moment's further reflection decided Mac that it was unlikely. Yates just didn't seem to be that devious. So... was this an indication that the young sailor really did pay attention to detail, or was it perhaps an early sign of obsessive behaviour? Either way, Seaman Yates warranted some closer attention.

Sighing again, Mac picked up the 'phone and dialled the Church Falls number. The receiver at the other side of the continent was picked up, and Mac heard herself ask the General's Yeoman to be put through to his principal. "Good morning General, it's Colonel MacKenzie-Rabb in San Diego, you wanted to speak with me sir...?" and her working day had begun.

In the outer office, Jen took stock of her desk, nothing was out of place. A fresh note pad lay next to the telephone, a handful of freshly-sharpened pencils stood points uppermost in a water tumbler. Her in-box was empty, and on her blotter was a single file folder, with a post-it note fixed to the jacket. The note said simply, "I didn't know what to do with this; I hope it was OK to leave it for you." A glance at the folder's contents told her it was one of her personal bêtes noirs, the quarterly statistic analysis of court hours, which needed to be checked for accuracy against the JAG lawyers' case notes, and a cost-effective analysis drawn up. Jen grinned wryly to herself; from a purely selfish viewpoint, no, it wasn't alright for Yates to leave it for her attention, but its completion was far beyond his present capabilities and experience; he'd had no other option but to leave it for her. Oh, well, she thought, at least it solved the problem of what to do with the rest of the day.

In the inner office, Mac pondered the request made by General Cresswell. He could, of course have made it an order, but beneath his outer Marine hard-shell, the General was as courteous and considerate as he could afford to be. Mac was coming to the conclusion that in his different way he was as accommodating as his predecessor, Admiral Chegwidden, who beneath his mask of irascibility had cared deeply about the welfare of his staff. But, a request from a superior could be construed as an order, so... was he being as considerate as might appear at first sight, or had he, as realisation dawned upon her, been handling her all along? Damn, she thought, he's good!

Hating this particular task the way she did, Jen was only too well aware of the hands of her watch creeping slowly around its face, and was glad for once to hear Mac's voice on the speaker 'phone, "Petty Officer!"

Jen closed the file and exited the computer program she had been using, and rapped gently on Mac's doorjamb, and in keeping with their established custom, entered the office and stood at ease in front of Mac's desk.

"Petty Officer, please pass the word for Commanders Sturgess and Blaine to join me here, and while they are with me cut them TAD orders - duration unknown - to JAG HQ Falls Church. I'll need those orders ready ASAP. Once you've done that, get them on the first available flight to DC, draw up an itinerary for them and copy it to the General's Yeoman at Church Falls. Understood?"

"Aye, aye, ma'am."

Jen went straight through her office, across the bull-pen to Commander Sturgess' office and found him talking on the 'phone. In answer to her gentle knock on the door, he looked up and raised a finger in a sign for her to wait, while he hurriedly finished his conversation. Jen relayed Mac's message and received his acknowledgement and went in search of Commander Blaine, whom she found in the women's rest room, again Jen repeated Mac's instructions, to which the older woman nodded her acquiescence.

Step one completed, thought Jen, now to find flights; Mac had said the first available flight, which according to protocol included civilian airlines if there were no military flights available. This time, however, she struck lucky; there was a navy C-130 scheduled to depart North Island Complex at 1500 hours for Andrews Air Force Base, with a refuelling stop at Carswell Air Force Base in Texas. The total flight time would be ten hours, so allowing for the time difference that meant the unlucky pair of travellers would arrive at Andrews at 0300 hours EST, where HQ JAG would have a car waiting for them for the drive to Falls Church. Jen grimaced as she set to work to type out the orders and itinerary, thankful this was one away mission to which she was not ordered.

Commanders Baines and Sturgess did not look best pleased when they were handed their orders, but with an 'Oh well, if you can't take a joke, you shouldn't have joined" Alan Sturgess, drew Caroline Baines' arm through his own and mock-marched them out of the office. Jen followed them to her own office door and watched in baffled amusement as the two, laughing at their own play-acting headed for the elevators.

Jen looked across at Felipe Gutierrez, whose desk was the nearest to her office, and asked him, "What the hell was that all about?"

Gutierrez looked blank for a moment as he puzzled out Jen's meaning and then grinned, "What, the 'if you can't take a joke...' thing?" he queried.

"Yeah," slowly replied Jen, "What's that all..." then realising she was about to repeat herself word for word, hastily amended the rest of her question, "mean?"

"It's British humour, Petty Officer. Something he picked up on TAD" Gutierrez answered.

Jen's brow cleared, Commander Sturgess had recently joined the JSLT from a staff JAG appointment at NATO HQ in Belgium, where he had worked closely with his British counterpart. Jen had never worked alongside any of the British armed forces, but she understood them to have a dry sense of humour that they used to cover their feelings. But still, did they mean that they thought service to their country was a joke? Puzzling over the imponderables of life she returned to her desk, and was relieved to note that the interruption to the dreaded analysis had somehow had the effect of speeding up time.

Eventually seventeen hundred hours arrived, and Jen prepared to secure for the day, first checking with Mac to see if anything else was needed before she left. Mac looked up in mild surprise; it was not often that Coates asked to leave before Mac did. "Hot date, Petty Officer?" she asked jokingly.

"Yes, ma'am," responded Jen, in kind, "Meeting a Petty Officer, at the MedCen."

"Oh, of course! I didn't tell you. I went to see Petty Officer Neumann yesterday; she was asleep when I got there, but the doctors were optimistic. Pass on my best wishes for her quick recovery, won't you?"

The drive to the Medical Centre, even through the late afternoon traffic took Jen less than twenty-five minutes, but as usual she was forced to park at the furthest parking lot from where she wanted to be. Oh well, she sighed to herself, a girl can't have everything. She eventually found her way to Calvin Graham Ward, and checking in at the nurses' station she asked for Fran's room. The nurse's reply shook her to her shoes, "Petty Officer Neumann's been moved Petty Officer; she's been taken down to ICU." Seeing Jen's bewilderment the young Ensign told her kindly, "That's the Intensive Care Unit, on the second floor".

Jen stuttered her thanks, and walked back to the elevator. This can't be happening, she thought, numbly pressing the elevator buttons, Fran had the 'flu; how can the 'flu put someone in intensive care? The elevator eased to a halt and Jen, still bemused look left and right searching for the nurses' station, eventually seeing a sign that directed her to her right. It was unusually quiet here, a hush almost church-like, people wore soft-soled footwear and spoke in hushed voice. The click, click, click of Jen's heels sounded unnaturally loud as she walked down the hall.

The oppressive atmosphere had its effect on Jen and she unconsciously lowered her voice as she asked for her friend. The nurse on duty smiled sympathetically and asked Jen to wait a minute while she checked with the Doctor. She returned in a few minutes and said that Jen could have five minutes, but that she'd need to be gowned and masked.

Donning cap, mask and gown Jen allowed herself to led to Fran's bedside. Fran looked so small, thin, pale and fragile, lying still and with her face half-covered with an oxygen mask. A profusion of wires and tubes led to an array of screens alive with crawling lines, blips and numbers and to a large bag of fluid that was steadily dripping into a vein in Fran's arm. "Wha... what's wrong with her?" stuttered Jen.

The accompanying nurse smiled in gentle sympathy and said, "That's best left to the Doctor to tell you,"

The Doctor's words brought little comfort to Jen, "Your friend was brought down here a couple of hours ago, unfortunately her pneumonia developed into what's called Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome. That means that the little air sacs in her lungs have filled up with fluid, making it tough for her to breathe; she's just not getting enough oxygen in her blood. Luckily," the doctor continued, "she was already here when her condition deteriorated, so her chances of survival are good."

The word 'survival' stunned Jen. She had realised that Fran was sick, but people got pneumonia all the time and then got better. Fran was young, fit and healthy, she played tennis and volleyball, she swam practically every day during the summer; how could this happen to her? Jen was so pre-occupied that she barely heard the doctor say that although he was confident that Fran would recover, he had taken the precaution of advising her next of kin that they should come to see her.

The doctor and the nurse looked gravely at each other, recognising that Jen was not entirely with them. The nurse helped Jen out of her gown and cap and shoving the garments into a laundry bag, she led Jen away to the waiting area so that she could recover. For some minutes Jen's brain raced wildly as she struggled to process all that the doctor had told her, then coming to a series of decisions, she left the building, and headed for the outside cafeteria. Ordering a coffee, Jen sat at a table, and took her cell 'phone out of her purse. There was no reply from the first number she dialled, so ending that call, Jen tried again. This call, the 'phone rang four times. "Hello?"

The voice was Mattie's. Jen forced herself to speak calmly, "Hi Mattie it's Jen. Is the Colonel at home yet...? Mattie, I'm sorry, I can't listen to you now, I need to speak to the Colonel urgently. Listen hon, we've got a bit of a situation going right now; I swear I'll call you back a bit later, and then you can tell me all your news. Hello, Colonel, it's Coates, ma'am. Ma'am, have you heard from the MedCen? Yes, I'm here now, ma'am. Colonel, they've moved Petty officer Neumann to Intensive Care; she's having trouble breathing. They say that she should be alright, but ma'am, they've sent for her parents... as a precaution, they say. No ma'am. I haven't said anything to Mattie, no, I figured I'd let you decide what and how much to tell her. Yes, ma'am, thank you ma'am."

Jen pressed the 'end call' and dialled a third number, but her call went straight to voicemail. "Hi, Tim, it's Jen... I'm at the MedCen cafeteria. Where are you? Call me as soon as you can, please."

Jen sat staring at her untouched coffee, her brain awash with possible outcomes - all save one, which she refused to entertain. Fran, fully restored to health and laughing at everyone for worrying about her; Fran suffering for years from the after effects; Fran being separated from navy on medical grounds; Fran...

Her reverie was interrupted by Tim's voice, and she turned her face towards him, her eyes were dry, but her face was pale. Tim was still dressed in his working fatigues, indicating that he had come straight from duty; his face showed concern, but there was no sign of the dread Jen was feeling. "Jen, there you are! I got your message a couple of minutes ago. I was visiting Fran and turned my cell off..." his voice trailed off as he saw her distress, "Jen, Jen!" he added urgently, "Listen to me; she's going to be alright," he tried to comfort her.

Jen stared, uncomprehending, at him, and then as the sense of his words penetrated her brain she almost screamed at him "You don't know that! Nobody knows that!"

Tim sat opposite her and taking one of her hands in both his own, he searched her face with his eyes. "Jen," he said gently, "I'm sorry, but I can't deal with you like this, not and deal with Fran at the same time. I know you're scared for her, so am I. Jen, I... I need to be here with Fran, why don't you go home; I'll call you the second anything, _anything _changes. Fran's folks are on the way and I'm going to stay with her until they get here, but I might need a relief, and if I do, then it's you I'm going to call, so you need to get home and get some rest."

Jen was a firm believer in not using her cell 'phone while driving, and had got into the habit of switching it to voice mail when she was behind the wheel, so she missed Mattie's first call, and her second.

She had parked her car, and was just about to let herself into the apartment building, when the door opened and she found herself face to face to Detective Cameron, who gazed at her speculatively, "It's Miss Coates, isn't it?" she asked, a note of doubt in her voice, "We met yesterday morning, Sally Cameron, remember me?"

"Yes, of course, you're the detective, the doctor's wife... you helped to get Fran ready to go to hospital."

"Yes that was me, a helluva mess I was in that time of night too; that's why I wasn't sure you'd remember me. I'm told I look different with my clothes on. How is your friend?"

The absurdity of the taller woman's comments, brought a swift, passing smile to Jen's face, "Uh... she's fine," Jen replied, not wanting to try and explain all that had happened to an almost total stranger.

Her answer did not, for a second, fool the experienced detective. "No," Sally replied slowly, "I don't believe that. You see, you're not a very good liar, I'm afraid." Her smile belied any insult. "See, I do this for a living... Jen, wasn't it?" taking Jen's silence for consent, Sally continued, "and while your voice says one thing, your eyes, your face and your body language all say something else."

Jen mumbled something inaudible, blushing slightly at being caught out so easily. Sally continued to stand in the doorway, contemplating the trim white-clad figure in front of her, and then with the air of one making a decision, she nodded, and asked, "Jen, if you don't mind me asking, is it just the two of you live upstairs, or does Fran's boyfriend live there with her too?"

The bluntness of Sally's question, coming from a new acquaintance surprised Jen into rudeness, "Not that it's any of your business, but no, Tim lives on base," replied Jen.

"So, you're there on your own for the moment, then?" Sally wanted to know. "Is there anyone you can talk to; I mean really talk to? I don't want to pry too much, but I know when a cop has got personal problems, it's sometimes difficult to talk to a boss, and even more difficult to talk to your buddies, and I guess it's pretty much the same in the military?"

Jen, swiftly passing her co-workers and superiors under mental review was, unwillingly, forced to agree, "Yeah... pretty much."

Sally smiled at her in sympathetic understanding, "Look, I'm just zipping along to the market, but I'm going to be home alone myself this evening, Tony's got the overnight OR. Why don't you come down, in say, about an hour, or so? It might make you feel better to talk it out. Think about it, OK? I'll expect you when I see you! "

Jen didn't know from Sally's parting remarks, whether she was really expected to visit with her later or not, so contented herself with stepping aside to let Sally run down the steps to her car.

For some indefinable cause, Jen felt pressured by Sally's questions, and felt an unreasonable sense of relief now that the detective had left her alone. Either, she mused, as she entered the elevator, I've got a guilty conscience, or maybe I just don't want to talk about this whole Fran thing!

Although she had almost decided not to accept Sally's invitation, the emptiness of the apartment nearly persuaded her to change her mind. But she had work to do, the two bin liners full of Frans' dirty laundry definitely needed to be washed; she was down to her last clean white blouse, although she thought, as she stripped off her uniform and inspecting it critically, her skirt would last one more day, and she did have two more hanging in her closet.

Pulling on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, she walked through into the kitchen and checked the 'fridge. There wasn't much left, and Jen really didn't fancy an omelette again, but there was a covered plate, and investigation revealed a couple of slabs of meatloaf left over from Sunday. Jen cautiously sniffed the food, and decided that it seemed OK. Coming to a decision, she opened the kitchen cupboard, and poured a measure of rice into a cup. Setting a pan of water on the hob, she added salt and waited for it to boil before adding the rice, and poured herself a glass of wine while she waited.

Across town in the Lemon Grove neighbourhood, at the house on Pacific Avenue, Mac was rummaging through her own kitchen in an attempt to find something that would tempt Mattie's appetite, The teenager was being particularly difficult this evening. Her attempts at phoning Jen Coates had been unsuccessful, and Mac had, against her original inclination, been obliged to tell her that Petty officer Coates, was at the hospital, and had probably been compelled to turn off her cell 'phone, The revelation of Jen's whereabouts had prompted an torrent of questions from Mattie: Was Jen sick? No? Then why was she at the hospital? Visiting a friend, which friend? Fran? Then why hadn't she been told? She was Fran's friend, too! How sick was Fran? Well, if it wasn't serious, why was Mac being so secretive?

The question and answer session had ended with Mac refusing to answer any more of Mattie's questions and Mattie lurching out of the family room and hauling herself upstairs to her bedroom. Mac's requests that she come back downstairs and eat something had been met with a defiant denial that Mattie was hungry. Mac had never known a time when Mattie wasn't ready for her dinner, and took the girl's refusal to eat with a pinch of salt. Eventually she decided that the couple of cold pepperoni pizza slices, one of Mattie's favourite snacks, would, if warmed up, entice Mattie to the table. In the meantime, she would finish of the Bolognese sauce with some garlic bread.

Mac admitted to herself that she just couldn't seem to deal with Mattie at the moment, anything and everything she did was wrong. Her relationship with Mattie hadn't always been this troubled. It was just that there had always seemed to be a gap between them. Mac was honest enough with herself to realise that part of the problem was that Mac's role in Chloe's life had been taken up by Jen Coates in Mattie's life, and as a result, as much as she would have it otherwise, she just wasn't able to get as close to Mattie as she was to Chloe. Mac was honest enough with herself to realise that she half-resented Mattie's relationship with the Petty Officer, but hoped at the same time, that she had enough self-control to prevent her submerged feelings from becoming obvious. She wished that Harm could wrap up this tedious Grand Jury thing in DC and come home; not just to take charge of, and guide, Mattie the way only he seemed to be able to, but also simply because she missed her husband. She couldn't remember many periods in her life since she had met him, eleven years ago, when they had been physically apart for so long, although at times, they had been far apart emotionally, and even involved temporarily with other partners. Certainly they had never been separated for so long, and apart from the physical intimacy they shared, she had always been able to talk through work-related problems with him.

One such problem lay behind the despatch of Alan Sturgess and Caroline Blaine to Falls Church. A young JAG Lawyer, Lieutenant Gregory Vukovic, about whom she had once had conflicting feelings, had, as he had so long threatened to do, seemed to have crossed the line from dubious courtroom tactics into Conduct Unbecoming and Service Discrediting Conduct. Major General Cresswell's request had been that she send two of her senior staff to investigate the allegations against Vukovic. If her two investigators did a thorough job, it was quite possible that they would uncover a dubious episode in which her name as senior counsel in the case was bound to come to light. The fact that Mac had had nothing to do with the Lieutenant's misconduct would do little to save her career if it was discovered that she'd had post fact knowledge of his behaviour and had failed to report him to the ethics committee, as she had half threatened to do, and as she had been legally and morally bound, but had failed to do. Now it seemed, she ruefully reflected, that her forbearance was about to turn round and bite her on the ass.

In addition to her concerns over the Vukovic case, which if the details ever came to full light, could also do JAG a great deal of damage, she now had the welfare, and possibly the death, of one her junior staff members to deal with, as well as maybe coping with the fall-out of Petty Officer Neumann's condition. If the worst happened, she feared not only for Mattie's state of mind, she knew that her husband's ward had grown fond of the blonde girl from Wisconsin, but she also feared for her Yeoman's emotional health.

Following Coates' 'phone call from the Medical Centre, Mac had called the ICU herself. Her rank and her position as Neumann's CO had allowed the medical staff to be much more forthcoming with her than they had been with Coates. By the end of their conversation Mac was under no illusions regarding the seriousness of Neumann's condition, and could only trust in the medical staff and wait to see if Neumann would pull through her illness.

Mac had been touched by Coates' confiding in her this morning, but had become concerned at the revelation of her perception of her Ocean Beach apartment as home. Mac had lived in a variety of apartments during her career, but it was only for the short period that she had lived with her then fiancé, Mic, the Australian naval officer, that she had ever thought of any of them as being home, in the sense that Coates had meant it. Mac had come to the strongly held belief that it wasn't bricks and mortar that made a house a home; it was the people with whom you shared that house. Mac was afraid that Coates' perception of home was, perhaps subconsciously, so closely identified with her sharing that home with Neumann, that if Neumann died, Coates would not only lose a friend, but would also lose that intangible sense of belonging. And Coates, as had Mattie, had already suffered too much loss.

Coates, wasn't dealing well with her friend's illness. The tears of yesterday, Mac was sure, had, despite Coates' protestation to the contrary, been a product of emotion as much as of physical fatigue. But today, when the news was so much worse, when Mac might have expected to hear heightened emotion in Coates' voice there was none, no emotion at all. Mac was sure that such a lack of reaction on her impulsive Petty Officer's part was not a good sign. Coates' voice on the 'phone had been totally without inflexion, as flat and as emotionless as if she was reading out the results of the quarterly statistics analysis. Recalling how much Coates hated compiling that particular report, Mac couldn't resist a short-lived smile, quickly banished by the gravity of the situation. Damn! She wished Harm was back! Piling her used dishes on the draining board, she hooked a foot around one of the kitchen chairs, and drawing it towards her, took the 'phone off the wall mounting, sat down and dialled her husband's cell 'phone, hoping that he had finished his working day in DC. "Hey Harm, how are you, honey? I miss you..."

Mattie, lying on her bed with her headphones firmly clamped to her ears was doing her best to inflict permanent hearing damage on herself, as she listened to the latest offering from her current musical goddess, the rebellious British singer, Amy Winehouse. The CD, a pirated copy given to her by a boy at school, came to an end but Mattie remained on her bed, indulging in a fit of self-pity, as she re-counted for the twelfth time that hour, the injustices in her life. Eventually, bored, and frustrated in her earlier attempts to talk to Jen, she decided to make one more try, before deciding that even the woman of whom she thought as a big sister had abandoned and betrayed her. Reaching out for her cell 'phone on the night stand, she nearly dropped it as the ring tone sounded just as she picked it up, her sulky expression changing to one of happiness when she saw the name on the caller ID display, "Hi Jen!"

Jen's tone was warm and friendly but subdued, "Hi, Mattie. Hey, girl, I'm sorry I missed your earlier calls, but you know I don't use my cell while I'm driving."

"Hell, no!" was Mattie's emphatic response, "there's too much chance of ending up wrapped around a street lamp! But where have you been since you got home, it's been hours since I called you - since I tried to call you," she corrected herself.

"I'm so sorry, Mattie, I got ambushed on the doorstep by a neighbour, got distracted, and forgot to turn the 'phone back on, and then I had a shi... Uh...then I had a_ load_ of laundry to do, and the 'phone kinda got left in my purse upstairs. Then I had a dinner to get and a girl's gotta eat, you know! But, hey I'm here now!"

"Oh, I'm so glad you are!" answered Mattie, squirming into a more comfortable position on her bed, and ignoring Jen's comment about eating - it had struck a little too close to home, and Mattie _was _now feeling hungry, but, "Mac's being a real bitch, right now!"

Jen's protesting "Mattie!" went unheeded as the girl continued to give vent to her anger and frustration.

"She's being totally unreasonable 'bout Stacy - she's threatening to take my cell 'phone away, and banning me from using the computer. Like, you know, I can't exactly get out on my own any more, and now she's trying to make me a prisoner! And then she wouldn't tell me anything about Fran, an' Fran's my friend too! I wish Harm was here! He'd understand!"

Yes, he'd understand, thought Jen, as Mattie's rant continued without a pause, the trouble is he'd probably understand so well that he'd rip your beloved Stacy's head off his shoulders and then crap down the hole. She interrupted her own train of thought, honestly shocked by the unaccustomed crudeness into which she'd slipped. Jen knew plenty of cuss words and vulgarity; living on the streets had done that for her before she'd ever joined the navy, but even so, such language was not part of her every-day speech patterns. And, worse, she'd nearly said it out loud! And to Mattie, of all people!

Mattie's diatribe seemed to have petered out, and Jen realised that there was silence between the 'phones. "Wow, Mattie," she said, frantically trying to hide that she hadn't really been listening to her young friend, "You gave me a lot to process there! Listen, girl, I know you're upset, and I know that the Colonel is worried about you. Yes, yes, I know that you don't think she has to be worried, and I know you don't think of her as your guardian or... or any kind of relation" - Whoo! She'd nearly blown it completely there; she'd nearly said 'Your Mom'! "But Mattie, sweetheart, I'm pretty sure that the Colonel thinks of you, not only as part of her family, but also as a very special girl, and she worries about you and only wants the best for you!"

The truth of Jen's remarks struck home, and Mattie was hard put to maintain the feeling of anger she that she had felt towards Mac, and although her next comment was phrased much more moderately, it contained a sting of bitterness, "Yeah, but I'm not her beloved Chloe!"

Mattie's remark about Chloe caused Jen to wince. This was something she had somehow known was going to rear its head, sooner or later, and Mattie's feelings would have to be thoroughly gone into and the whole Chloe-Mac-Harm-Mattie thing sorted out to at least Mattie's satisfaction, but for the moment all Jen could think of was to say, "Hey, Mattie, I'm sure Mac loves you just as much as she does Chloe; just maybe in a different way, huh?"

"Yeah," Mattie's tone was still bitter, "Emotional apartheid! Jen, what am I going to do?" The plaint in her question becoming obvious.

"Well, Mattie, for a start, you could leave things to me for the moment; I may have a plan. But right now, let me hang up. Tim's sitting with Fran over at the MedCen, and he might need me to go and take over from him, so I really need to try and keep this 'phone free in case he calls!"

A contrite Mattie, instantly responded, "Oh, Jen, I'm such a complete cow! I'm so selfish! I forgot all about Fran - yes, go on, hang up! Love you!"

Jen's, "I love you too, Mattie," was wasted on a dead 'phone.

Jen had always equated lying to children as bad parenting, but excused herself, this once, she told herself, on the grounds that she wasn't really Mattie's mother. If Tim needed to get hold of her in a hurry, he also had the apartment 'phone number, so if her cell was busy, he could always call the landline. In this case, though, Jen needed Mattie to get off the line, because she needed her cell 'phone for another call.

Her plans however were thwarted, the number she called was busy. Drumming her fingers on the breakfast counter, Jen tried one more number; again, but as she'd half-expected this time, that number too was busy. Jen sighed and put her 'phone on the counter, she'd have to try a bit later, but not too late; one of the calls she wanted to make was to a number on the east coast.

Giving herself twenty minutes, Jen having had a re-think, re-dialled the second of the two previously busy numbers. It seemed an age before anyone picked up, but at last...

"Rabb."

"Hello, sir, it's Jennifer." Harmon Rabb was probably the only person in the world to whom Jen used the full form of her first name.

"Jennifer? What can I do for you?" Rabb's voice was filled with pleased surprise. Although he considered himself happily married, he was not immune to his former protégée's charm.

"Actually, sir, I was hoping there was something I could do for you; well, for you and Mattie and the Colonel, yeah, and for me too." Jen responded.

"Well, you can do one thing for me Jennifer, and it's something I've asked you to do before; lots of times."

"What's that, sir?"

"You can stop calling me 'sir', or 'Mr Rabb', and especially 'Mr Rabb, sir'' my name is 'Harm'. And before you say you can't call me 'Harm', I know damn' well that you do call me just that behind my back!"

"B... b... behind your back, si...Harm?" stuttered Jen, thrown of her mental balance.

"Yes, to Mattie, and probably to your friends too. And I don't really think I can go along with 'Sir Harm'. My ride was a Tomcat, not a destrier!"

A by now thoroughly confused Jen, could only repeat helplessly, "A destrier?"

"Yes, a destrier... a medieval knight's warhorse."

"No," Jen floundered, "you've completely lost me now."

"Jennifer, are you alright?" demanded a suddenly concerned Rabb, "You're usually much quicker on the uptake than this."

"Oh, I'm fine, honestly ...er... Harm. I guess I'm just a little tired. And a little bit lonely, I guess."

"Lonely, Jennifer?"

"Yeah, that's what I wanted to talk with you about. My room-mate has had to leave for a while, so I have this extra bed, and I guess you know all about Mattie and this creep she's met?"

"Yeah, I do; go on." Rabb's voice had suddenly lost all vestiges of good humour.

"Well, Mattie's convinced herself that she loves this guy. And The Colonel's not being... Well, the Colonel and Mattie are seriously bumping heads..." Once again Jen found herself floundering, her carefully rehearsed sentences failing to make it from brain to mouth.

"And...?" Rabb's voice had regained its usual intonation.

"Well, I figured that if Mattie could come and stay with me, it might help both her and the Colonel, and I might be better at making Mattie see sense about this Stacy, and it would definitely help me, Harm."

"Well, what do you want me to do Jennifer? Have you talked to Mac about this?"

"No, I haven't yet, Harm. I wanted to clear it with you first. You are Mattie's guardian, a point that she apparently made quite clear to the Colonel, so when I speak with the Colonel - and I'll only do that if you approve - I'm sure she'll call you for your decision. It might be better, though," she added cautiously, "if perhaps you didn't tell the Colonel that I called you first..."

"No, I appreciate your meaning, but Jennifer I won't lie to Mac. I'll think about what you've said, and if Mac calls me, we'll discuss it, and one of us'll get back to you... OK?"

"Yeah, OK. But, Harm, how much longer are you going to be away? There are people out here who need you." I need you, thought Jen, facing up to the thought she had earlier refused to entertain. If Fran dies, I'll need a friend...

"Jennifer, I'll be back just as soon as I can. I just don't know yet when that will be. Take care of yourself now. And don't let Mac work you too hard. 'Bye Jennifer."

"Goodbye, Harm, see you soon."

Jen knew that she'd need a clear head to persuade Mac that her plan would be the best temporary solution to all their problems, so stifling yet again her rising emotions, she drew a deep breath she dialled the Colonel's home number.

The pick up at the other end was so quick that Jen wasn't even sure the 'phone had rung once, "MacKenzie-Rabb!"

"Good evening, Colonel, it's Petty Officer Coates."

Ma's voice sharpened with anxiety, "What is it Petty Officer, has something happened?"

"Happened, Ma'am...? Oh... no ma'am, nothing like that... No, I'm calling to ask a favour, if I may?"

"A favour?" Mac's voice rose by a half-octave. In her experience Petty Officers did not usually ask Lieutenant Colonels for favours.

"Yes, ma'am. It looks like Petty Officer Neumann is going to be sick for a couple of weeks, and this apartment is kind of empty without company, so I was wondering, ma'am, if I could maybe invite Mattie to come and visit with me for a while?"

Mac stared at the wall opposite while her mind raced. Her first instinct had been to snap 'no', but then she recalled her earlier thoughts on Coates' state of mind, and paused. Maybe it would be better for Coates to have some company, rather than just brooding up there in that loft, spending evening after evening alone. But, at the same time, to allow Mattie to remove herself from her home smacked a little too much for comfort of an evasion of responsibility.

"Petty Officer," Mac replied slowly, "before I say yes, or no, I need to be absolutely sure that you're on the same page with me about this guy Mattie thinks she's in love with..."

"Ma'am, yes ma'am! I'm as keen to stop Mattie making a such a huge mistake as you are!"

"Uh-huh, what about getting her to school and physical therapy?"

"We would have to leave home about twenty minutes before I usually do, ma'am, just so I wouldn't be late, and that would get her to school on time. She has physical therapy twice a week, I believe ma'am?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Well ma'am, I've got twenty days' leave on the books, so I figured if I could take a half-day's leave each time Mattie need to go to hospital, then by the time I've used up my leave, everything should have been squared away."

"Alright, Petty Officer, let me think about it... I'll get back to you."

"Yes, ma'am, thank you ma'am."

At least, mused Jen, as she folded away her phone, she hadn't said 'no'.

On Pacific Avenue, Mac having again failed to tempt Mattie to come downstairs and eat something, sighed in frustration, and then, once again picking up the 'phone, pressed the 'last call made' button, "Harm, hi, it's me again. Listen, I've just had a call from Coates..."

The conversation between Mac and Harm was not of long duration. Neither of them were totally happy with the idea of Mattie leaving the shelter of their roof; it was not what either of them considered to be good parenting, but when Mac revealed the reason for Fran Neumann's having 'had to leave for a while' and confessed her concerns over Jen, Harm conceded that Jen's idea, might just benefit all concerned, and managed to persuade a still somewhat reluctant Mac to come round to his opinion.

The decision made, Mac, climbed the stairs and knocked on Mattie's door. "Mattie, come out, please, or let me in. We really need to talk... please?"

Mac's tone of voice, rather than her words, persuaded Mattie, already feeling half-ashamed over her self-absorption which had led to her temporarily forgetting about Fran, to call out that Mac could come in.

Mac looked thoughtfully at the scowling teenager on the bed, sitting jammed into the corner between two walls. Indicating the foot of the bed, Mac asked, "May I sit?"

Mattie's muttered, "Go ahead, I can't stop you." was less than gracious, but at least, Mac thought, it wasn't an outright 'no'.

Perching on the foot of the bed, and carefully maintaining a neutral air, Mac look straight in front of her and said, "Mattie, I've just been talking to Petty Officer Coates."

Mattie, in her turn, not looking at Mac, replied "Yeah?"

"Yes, and with Petty Officer Neumann in hospital, Coates is lonely in that apartment all by herself."

"Yes?" Despite herself, Mattie could feel some of her gloom fading away, and a sense of anticipation rising, could this be Jen's plan, could she...?

"So..." Mac continued, "she's invited you to visit with her for a few days, just to keep her company while Petty Officer Neumann's away..." Mac deliberately paused, letting Mattie process what she had just said, and finally turned her head to look into Mattie's face.

The expression of sheer pleasure on Mattie's face as she turned it towards Mac was almost enough to break Mac's heart. In it she saw not a teenager's sudden anticipation of an unexpected treat, but a rejection of herself and all her values. Inwardly gritting her teeth, Mac continued, "Before I say 'yes', Mattie, if I say 'yes', I need to go over a couple of ground rules with you. OK?"

Mattie, with a sense of what was coming nodded, but mentally crossed her fingers, "'Kay," she answered.

"I know you can behave well enough when you put your mind to it, Mattie. So _if_ I say 'yes', then I need you to promise me that you will do what Petty Officer Coates says and not be disrespectful of her. I need you to promise me that you won't try and make any dates with this guy, you're so keen on, and no 'phone calls to or from him; and I need you to promise me that you'll make sure all your homework is done - that includes civics and English lit!" naming Mattie's two least favourite subjects in a brief attempt to lighten the rigour of her restrictions.

It seemed as if Mac's ploy had succeeded. Although Mattie looked rebellious for a few moments, she then said, as if she thought it the harshest of the restrictions Mac had placed on her, "Civics _and_ lit?"

Mac, only partially reassured by Mattie's implied acceptance of her terms, decided to take the girl's words at face value, and allowing a half-smile, to show on her face, held out her hand said "OK, then. Truce?"

Mattie eyed her dubiously for a second or two, and then, with a hard-to-read expression on her face, took Mac's hand in her own and agreed, "Truce."

"Alright," sighed Mac, "you can go. But, it's too late tonight. So, you can pack a couple of bags - don't pack too much, you're not off to the Antarctic and if you forget anything, you can always come and get it - I'll stow the bags in the car in the morning and hand them over to Coates; she can pick you up after school tomorrow, and you can drive straight to her apartment. OK? And will you _please_, come and eat something - there's a couple of slices of pepperoni pizza that need finishing before they have to be thrown away!"

Mattie's cheerful, "OK, Mac, Ok, I'll eat already!" informed Mac that this, at least, was one quarrel the sun wouldn't be going down on.

So, now there was just one more 'phone call to make, "Hello, Petty Officer? It's Colonel MacKenzie-Rabb..."


	6. 04 October 2007

**Thursday 04 October 2007**

Jen woke the following morning with the feeling that she had missed something. A few moments' thought led her to the realisation that she hadn't heard from Tim. A glance at the clock showed that it was still few minutes before six in the morning. Picking up her 'phone she tried his number, and as when had tried to call him yesterday, the 'phone went straight to voice-mail. Reasoning that if his 'phone was switched off, that he must be still at the Medical Centre - if he was anywhere else he wouldn't have risked not being able to be reached, Jen decided that she'd call the ICU, after she had taken her run.

Getting to her feet, Jen felt a sudden wave of giddiness, which however swiftly passed. Putting the dizziness down to the speed with which she had stood up, she went to the bathroom to brush her teeth before donning her running outfit. Turning on the faucet, Jen applied toothpaste to her brush, but had barely raised the brush to her mouth, when her stomach was seized by an agonising spasm. Realising, in horror, what was about to happen, Jen barely managed to seat herself on the toilet, before her stomach turned itself inside out. Pasty-faced and trembling slightly, Jen smiled weakly to herself and thought, OK, maybe a run isn't such a good idea this morning, but what was wrong with her? Only a couple of seconds passed before she supplied the answer to her own question: That damn' meatloaf must have been just on the turn! Oh, well, it can't have been too far spoiled, otherwise she would have more than just a slightly upset stomach, but how she wished now, she'd decided to make an omelette.

Still queasy, Jen completed her morning toilet in slow time, the mere thought of anything solid for breakfast, made her stomach roil, so contenting herself with a cup of coffee, she left slightly early for work, with the car window rolled down in the hope that the stream of fresh air would make her feel a bit better.

The open car window made it imperative that she checked her hair before starting work for the day, so Jen on her arrival at JAG made her way directly to the women's room in order to repair any damage. Satisfied that now she hadn't a hair out of place; Jen examined her reflection in the mirror. She was a bit pale, and there was a slight sheen of perspiration on her face, she half-smiled, remembering the old joke about horses, gentlemen and ladies, but she figured she'd pass muster.

Taking her seat at her desk, Jen recalled with annoyance that she hadn't yet called the Medical Centre, as she reached for the 'phone an idea crossed her mind. When a voice at the other end of the line responded, "ICU, Ensign Matthews, sir" Jen put her idea into execution.

"Good morning, ma'am, this is Colonel Mackenzie-Rabb's Yeoman at JAG JSLT; the Colonel has asked me to get an update on Petty Officer Neumann's condition." Jen waited to see if her ruse had succeeded.

"One moment, please." The Ensign's voice betrayed her youth, and Jen hoped, a degree of inexperience.

"Hello?" Just as Jen had hoped, it was still Ensign Matthews.

"Yes, I'm here ma'am."

"Well, the Petty Officer passed a peaceful night, and she's resting comfortably. Her respiration has improved, although we are still waiting to see how she reacts to her new medication."

"So," Jen persisted, "she's recovering, getting better?"

"It's still early days, Yeoman, but we think that there's reasonable cause for optimism."

"Uh-huh. The Colonel says that you sent for her family - have they arrived, and if so, may I speak with them, please?"

"They're on their way, as I understand the case, Yeoman, but they haven't arrived yet."

Jen simulated concern, "So she's had no visitors? There's nobody with her? The Colonel will need to know that."

"No, there's a Marine Corps Sergeant, who has barely left her bedside. I've just sent him to wash up and get some breakfast."

"Thank you, ma'am. Can I please ask that you keep this office informed of the Petty Officer's progress?" Jen gave the Ensign her office 'phone number, and replaced the handset, well satisfied with her subterfuge.

Jen quickly typed up a synopsis of her conversation with the ICU Ensign, and sent it to the printer.

Checking her watch, she saw that is was almost past time to square away the first tranche of papers for the Colonel's attention, and to make the Colonel's first cup of coffee of the day.

Ordinarily, the smell of fresh-brewed coffee was one of Jen's favourites, and she half-jokingly admitted to being a caffeine-addict, but today - she blamed it on the meatloaf - she felt disinclined to eat or drink anything.

Returning to her desk, collecting the print-out en route, she found that Mac had arrived while she was making coffee. Taking the coffee and the paperwork into Mac's office, she swiftly briefed Mac on her telephone call to the Medical Centre, becoming uneasily conscious as she did so, that her stomach was again giving off signals of rebellion. So pre-occupied was she with her own sensations that Jen failed to notice that Mac, too was unusually subdued.

Jen returned to her desk and had barely seated herself, when Mac rushed out of her office, ignoring Jen's cry of "Ma'am?" and almost ran across the bull-pen in the direction of the women's room. A concerned Jen, temporarily forgetting her own discomfort, followed her CO along the hallway, ignoring the startled looks of officers and commissioned alike, as the JAG staff tried to process what was happening in front of their startled eyes.

Entering the women's room, Jen started to ask, "Ma'am are you al..", when the sharp smell of vomit reached her olfactory senses. As far as Jen's inner workings were concerned, this was the final straw. A wave of nausea overcame her, and she barely made it in time to sink to her knees in a vacant stall.

A few distressing moments passed, until Jen, hoping that the worst was over, rose to her feet, and turned towards the wash basins. A pale and sweating Marine Corps Lieutenant Colonel, was there just ahead of her, and turned to look as the Petty Officer bent over the next but one wash basin and cupped her hands under the flow of water. Matching shamefaced grins were exchanged as Jen said apologetically, "Bad meatloaf."

Mac nodded in recognition of the two-word explanation and added her own sheepish, one-word excuse, "Bolognese".

For an instant their ranks were forgotten as the two women silently sympathised with each other's plight.

"Well, ma'am, I guess I'd better be heading back," at last offered the still somewhat shaky Jen.

"Yes, walk with me Petty Officer," and as they walked back towards their office, Mac asked, "Now, are you sure, you're well enough to cope with Mattie still? I don't want you needing medical attention too!"

"I'll be fine ma'am. Really, I feel better already, since..." Jen nodded her head in the vague direction of the women's room.

"If you're really sure, Petty Officer, then I'll call Mattie and tell her to take the bus from school and come straight here. I'll pick her up at main gate security and you can take her with you when we secure for the day - she's packed a couple of bags, and her wheelchair, I have them in my trunk.

"Yes, ma'am. If the Colonel has no objections, I was going to try and see Petty Officer Neumann on my way home, and I think Mattie would like the chance to see her too."

Mac considered for a minute or so, before replying, "Given that the medics think that Neumann's improving, it might not be a bad idea, it might help Mattie realise that there are other things in life than boys - or men!" she added darkly. "But," and here she stopped and turned to level her eyes at Jen, "If Mattie becomes too upset, then you are to get her out of there, immediately. Understood?"

"Aye, aye, ma'am!"

"But I'm glad you reminded me Coates, I need to visit Neumann as well today, I didn't manage it yesterday, and I ought to at least pay a flying visit each day. So, I'll take an extended lunch-break and drive up to Bob Wilson. Did you say that her parents weren't here yet? Well, if you hear before I do, let me know as soon as they get here and have gotten themselves settled in. I _do_ need to talk to them!

"Yes, ma'am, will do!"

Jen returned to her desk to continue with her day's work and immersed herself in her least favourite task - finishing that damned statistical analysis. She had become so absorbed in her work that she failed to notice that she had company, until an irritably cleared throat distracted her attention. Looking up she saw a tight-lipped and definitely displeased-looking Lieutenant Simms glaring at her. Jen scrambled to her feet, "How may I help you ma'am?" she offered.

"Petty Officer, are you aware that your uniform is soiled?" demanded Simms.

"Ma'am?" Jen was surprised at the question. She knew that when she'd dressed this morning that despite all, her uniform was spotless. Involuntarily, she glanced down, breaking eye contact with Simms.

"Eyes front, Petty Officer!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am!"

"You can consider yourself on report, Petty Officer!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am" responded a silently fuming Jen. Had this witch really nothing better to do? she asked herself.

It was therefore the height of irony, that with Simms barely out of the door Mac entered from her own office, ineffectually dabbing at a spot on her own uniform blouse.

"Coffee stain, ma'am?" Enquired Jen, more for the sake of covering her own agitation, than out of any real interest.

"No, Coates," replied Mac with a grimace, "it's a match with yours I'm afraid."

This time Jen did look down and saw to her dismay that there was a string of suspicious yellowish tear-drop shaped dots down the outside of her left breast. Jen stared helplessly at her CO. She had no spare uniform here, and Cathy Bellowes, the only other female Petty Officer First Class in the office, was equally unlikely to have a spare pressed uniform blouse on the premises, and even if she did, reflected Jen there was no way that she could comfortably fit into the smaller girl's clothes. There was only one possible solution.

"Permission to leave the deck for ten minutes, ma'am?" she asked.

Mac grinned at her, "Only when I've returned, Petty Officer!"

Jen sensing that Mac had come to the same conclusion about her own predicament, smiled in return and sat down again as Mac once more headed for the women's room. Rather than being put out by Mac's reaction, Jen was relieved. She hadn't relished the idea standing in her bra next to an equally unclad Colonel, while they both attempted to hand scrub their soiled blouses. She didn't she reflected, with an inner grimace, really want that type of bonding with her boss.

In the meantime, sighed Jen, she still had that damned report to finish! She eyed the waiting file with marked disfavour, as if somehow everything that had happened in last couple of days was the fault of the unoffending paper!

Meanwhile, Mac having reached the women's room stripped off her blouse, and carefully having applied liquid soap and water to a paper towel started to remove the stain on the front of the blouse, when just the faintest trace of the aftermath of her previous visit reached her nose. Oh, no, she groaned silently, and opening the door to one of the stalls, she knelt and grasped the rim of the bowl as for the second time that morning she emptied her stomach of its contents.

She was vaguely aware of someone entering the room, and cursing under her breath that she had been caught in such an embarrassing position and showed so much weakness in front of a subordinate, Mac struggled back to her feet, acutely conscious of her state of undress. To her relief the intruder proved to be Lieutenant Walker, who quickly grasped the situation. Knowing that Mac would be mortified to be found in this condition by a junior member of staff, she put aside her own needs for the moment, about-faced and left the room. Mac, quickly attempted to rectify the state of her uniform blouse, but ruefully accepted that it was probably past immediate repair, and was compelled to re-don the offending article. Hastily splashing some cold water over her face, she again rinsed her mouth out in an attempt to rid herself of the acrid after-taste of bile, and dragging a comb through her hair she braced herself to deal with any comments that might be made.

Leaving the women's room she was surprised, and a little touched, to find that Lieutenant Walker had unobtrusively posted herself as a sentry and had engaged two Petty Officers in conversation just outside the door, effectively preventing anyone else from entering. Nodding in response to the unspoken question in Lieutenant Walker's eyes, Mac signalled that she was feeling better, and that Walker could stand down from her self-imposed duty.

Fortunately she had, hanging in her office, her uniform tunic, so shrugging her shoulders into it, she fastened the buttons, uneasily aware of the clamminess of the blouse's damp cloth against her skin. "Coates!" she called out.

Jen entered the office, "Yes, ma'am?"

"Coates, a slight change of plan. I'm leaving the office for a while. I need to get to the BX, and I'll head straight from there to the MedCen. If anyone calls, I'm not available, but I'll be back after lunch - by fourteen hundred at the latest."

"Aye, aye, ma'am."

Mac having departed the office, Jen returned to her work. Thankfully she had just about completed the statistics analysis, and blew a sigh of relief, now she had three whole months before she had to worry about the next report. One of the reasons Jen hated the report was that it was so time consuming, so while she was dealing with it, her other work just kept piling up. Casting a jaundiced eye on her now-full in-box, Jen reached for the stack of files, to sift through them and start on the one with the highest priority. She had barely started when her 'phone rang.

"Joint Services JAG Team, Petty Officer Coates, sir."

"Petty Officer, Master Chief Saunders here, at Base HQ. Please convey the Base XO's compliments to Colonel MacKenzie-Rabb and inform her that the Base XO would find it convenient if she were to call upon him at oh eight hundred hours tomorrow."

"Aye, aye, Master Chief. Lieutenant Colonel Mackenzie-Rabb to report to the Base XO at oh eight hundred hours, aye."

"Thank you, Petty Officer."

Now, mused Jen, what's all that about? Oh, well, if she needed to know then Mac would undoubtedly tell her.

Suddenly aware of an empty feeling in her stomach, Jen looked at her watch, and saw that it was already half-past twelve, and realised, to her pleased surprise, that she was actually hungry. However, not wanting to tempt fate, she decided that she would try a light lunch and content herself with a sandwich, and maybe a carton of milk.

The cafeteria JAG shared with the IG's office was strangely empty when she got there, there were one or two of the IG's people that she vaguely recognised, but the only familiar face she saw belonged to Sam Martin, she was about to join him at his table, when he stood, and picking up his tray, intercepted her, saying in his easy, friendly manner, "Hey, Jen, it's a beautiful day, why don't we eat outside?"

In total contrast to the cafeteria's serving area, the outside dining area was packed. Along with most of her co-workers, Jen saw enlisted from departments and areas, who, strictly speaking had no business in the JAG/IG's area. Consequently all but one of the tables were crowded to capacity, and several enlisted men were perched on low wall that surrounded the cafeteria building. The one table that wasn't crowded was occupied by a single officer, and Jen had no trouble recognising the slim figure of Lieutenant Sims.

Jen had picked up on a sense of anticipation among the enlisted that were present, and turning a puzzled face towards Sam Martin, she started to ask him, "Sam, what's..."

"Shush, Jen, just wait and see," was his quiet reply.

Jen didn't have long to wait. A tall, black seaman with a Quartermaster's rating badge on his arm approached Simms. Freezing into a brace, he saluted, while saying "The compliments of the day to the Lieutenant!"

A startled Simms looked up from her meal, and stuttered, "Why, thank you seaman."

At his failure to move, Simms realised she had failed to make the required response. Biting her lip in annoyance - with herself for once, she replaced her cover, stood and returned his salute, replying formally, "The Lieutenant thanks the Seaman!"

His salute returned the quartermaster, lowered his arm to his side and added "The Seaman requests the Lieutenant's permission to dismiss."

"Carry on, Seaman. Dismissed!"

"Aye, aye ma'am." The sailor once again saluted, requiring Simms to reciprocate, and carrying out a smart about-face marched away from Simms' table.

Simms resumed her seat and removed her cover, and while she wondered what on earth that had all been about decided to dismiss the incident as of little importance.

Jen, by now, extremely puzzled, turned again to Sam. He just winked at her and placed his finger to his lips

Lieutenant Simms picked up her fork, but before she had time to raise it to her lips, her meal was again interrupted. This time by a female Petty Officer Personnel Clerk.

"The compliments of the day to the Lieutenant!"

Once again Simms was forced to abandon her meal, don her cover, stand and return the salute.

The Petty Officer followed the original Seaman's example, word for word and move for move, compelling Simms to do the same.

Again, barely had the Lieutenant resumed her seat, when again she was accosted by an unfamiliar sailor. Again she was forced to stand and return his naval courtesies, and again was barely allowed to regain her seat before again being saluted.

Jen, looking on in puzzlement as sailor after sailor marched up to the Lieutenant's table and with exact precision repeated the ritual, word for word and salute for salute, suddenly realised that instead of the crowd thinning, it was actually increasing in density, as more and more sailors awaited their turn to wish the compliments of the day to Simms. As it became obvious that none of those accosting the Lieutenant worked at JAG, a long-submerged nugget of naval lore floated to the top of Jen's mind, Simms had become the subject of lower-deck justice. She was, in effect, powerless, and being humiliated by that lack of power. She couldn't file charges against the sailors for insubordination - they were all being punctiliously respectful; she couldn't mentally file their faces away for later, unofficial retribution - they weren't in her department and it was unlikely she'd ever encounter them again; she couldn't abandon her meal and leave the scene of her humiliation; that would be seen as running away. All she could do was suffer in silence until the torment had run its course.

Jen, at first puzzled, and then taking enjoyment in the unpopular Lieutenant's dilemma, became increasingly uneasy as the torment persisted. Even from where she was sitting, a good thirty feet away, Jen could see the Lieutenant's face become red with humiliation, a red that faded into a paleness that only emphasised Simms increasing fatigue, anger and despair, as the queue waiting to humiliate her further seemed only to grow longer.

Jen could stand it no longer, "Sam, did you organise this?" she asked in horror.

"Yep, sure did," he replied complacently, "It's about time, and past, that someone handed that bullying bitch her come-uppance."

"It's horrible, Sam, stop it - it's gone far enough!" she begged,

"Sorry, Jen, no can do." He replied, his usually gentle eyes taking on a flinty look.

"Well if you won't, I will!" she stated.

Sam put out a hand to stop her, but she looked at him, and said, "No, Sam, enough's enough," and there was that in her eyes that dissuaded Sam from any further attempts at restraining her.

Placing her cover on her head, Jen approached Lieutenant Simms' table. As she got nearer Jen could tell that the Lieutenant was not far from tears. Coming to a halt, Jen saluted and quickly said, blessing the formula she had just recently heard from the Master Chief, "Ma'am, Colonel MacKenzie-Rabb's compliments, and she would find it convenient if you would attend her directly".

Lieutenant Simms directed a tear-filled but astonished gaze at her CO's Yeoman, but stuttered that she would be in the Colonel's office in moments. Jen, realising that if she left the Lieutenant alone, the torment would resume, added in a quiet murmur, "Ma'am, it would be better if you were to accompany me."

Resuming her wits the tall brunette officer finally managed to reply in audible tones, "Very well, Petty Officer, I'll come with you now."

As they made their departure, a Seaman ventured to salute Simms, but was stopped dead by a glare from the bristling Petty Officer escorting the Lieutenant from the scene.

Jen was furious. She was furious with Sam Martin for orchestrating Simms' punishment, she was furious with Simms for being the cause of Sam's actions, she was furious with the crowd for the enjoyment they had taken in the Lieutenant's humiliation. And she was furious and disgusted with herself for her own initial enjoyment of the spectacle.

By the time they had regained the shelter of the JAG building, Simms had regained a measure of control over her feelings, but Jen's fury had barely begun to subside. In an attempt to reassert herself, Simms said, "I suppose you think I should be grateful to you, Petty Officer?"

Jen felt a stab of pure white-hot anger flash through her. "Permission to speak, freely ma'am?" she requested, although it sounded more like a statement of intent.

Simms stared at her, "Permission granted," she agreed.

"Ma'am, I don't really care what you think, ma'am." Jen raged, "I felt sorry for you out there, but in all honesty, ma'am, you brought that on yourself! I only hope that you have learned some sort of lesson, ma'am!" With that Jen saluted and without waiting to see if Simms returned the courtesy, executed an about-face leaving an open-mouthed Lieutenant staring after her.

Jen's tempestuous entry into the bull-pen was marked by several people, her heightened colour and the stormy expression on her face so far removed from her habitual good-humoured expression that a few of her co-workers stopped work to stare at as she passed.

Jen stormed into her office, and carelessly tossing her cover onto her desk, knocked in peremptory fashion on Mac's door, before remembering that the Colonel had said she would be late in returning from lunch.

Turning back towards her desk, Jen found herself confronted with a now-raging Lieutenant Simms, "Petty Officer Coates!"

In spite of her years of ingrained naval discipline, Jen could no longer restrain herself, as all the fear, frustrations and fury of the last few days overflowed, "What?" she yelled.

Simms blanched in shock, "That's it!" her voice rising to a near-scream of triumph, "You've done it! You little bitch! I'm going to file..."

A third crisp, authoritative voice cut across her diatribe, "Stand down! Both of you!" Jen, appalled at her loss of control froze into a position of attention, but Simms was unable to contain her venom.

"You heard her, Commander, she was..."

Commander Coleman repeated her snapped out order, "I said, stand down, Lieutenant!"

The insistence in Coleman's voice finally penetrated the haze of Simms' fury, and she too adopted a position of attention. Faith Coleman, looked over her shoulder at the occupants of the bull-pen all frozen in attitudes of shocked excitement and curiosity as the drama unfolded before their eyes, and at the JAGs who had been drawn out of their offices by the noise. With a look of extreme displeasure on her freckled face, she snapped, "What are you all looking at, haven't you got any work to do?"

The bull-pen erupted into noise as those who had been standing and staring suddenly found urgent work to occupy their attention. Coleman looked across the bull pen until her eyes met those of Lieutenant Walker. "Lieutenant Walker, take the Petty Officer into custody, please, and hold her in your office until further notice. Yates, you've stood in for the Petty Officer before, I understand, take her desk. Lieutenant Simms, with me!"

Jen walked towards the petite red-haired officer; she was trembling and she felt cold, her stomach tied in a knot of apprehension. She failed to register the concern in Walker's face as she entered the JAG's office. "Sit down, Petty Officer."

"Aye, aye ma'am. Ma'am, I..."

"Don't say anything, Petty Officer," Walker warned, not unkindly, "just sit there and stay quiet."

Jen sat, stewing in a broth of uncertainty. She had no idea what might happen to her, sure only that she had probably lost her chance at promotion and would probably find she had been re-assigned, and would face charges. Jen had always been unaware that her highly expressive face was a fairly accurate barometer of her thoughts and feelings and had no idea that under the pretence of reading a file, Lieutenant Walker had been covertly watching her, and had drawn her own not inaccurate conclusions regarding Jen's trepidations.

In Commander Coleman's office the atmosphere was much more highly charged. Simms persisted in her efforts to rage against Jen, and what she termed her gross insubordination, threatening to charge her with every naval crime she could, and ignoring three repetitions of the Commander's order to stand down.

Eventually Faith Coleman lost her own patience, and said, "Very well, Lieutenant; I've heard you out, the charges are, one: Disobeying a Direct Order; two: Gross Insubordination; three: Conduct Unbecoming. The name of the accused is Lieutenant Roberta Simms USN!"

Her words had much the same effect as a bucket of cold water on the angry Lieutenant, and she subsided into silence, her mouth however opening and shutting helplessly.

"That's much better, Lieutenant" Coleman remarked, regarding the other officer with distaste. "Now let's try and talk this out sensibly - no! When I say 'we', what I mean is I will talk and you will listen. You will not speak unless I ask you a direct question! Is that understood? You can answer that."

"Yes, ma'am," a still hostile Simms replied.

"Never, in my years in the navy" continued Coleman, "have I seen an officer lose control of herself in such a disgraceful manner - and in front of enlisted as well! I don't blame Coates for shouting at you. If you had spoken to me in that tone of voice, I'd have slapped you silly, or better yet punched your lights out. And Lieutenant, I flatter myself that I am not a violent person. Moreover," she added in even icier tones, "there can never be any excuse for an officer descending to the level of personal abuse in which you indulged this afternoon. You, Lieutenant, are supposed to be the JAG administrative officer, and as such Coates is one of your people. You are required to take an interest in the enlisted under your command, Lieutenant, were you aware of that? - No, don't answer. Are you aware of what's happening in Coates' life at the moment? Do you care? Are you aware that she's waiting to find out if one of her friends is going to live or die? Are you aware that that friend is also one of your enlisted, for whom you are supposed to take responsibility? Have you visited her in hospital? Are you even aware that one of your enlisted is in hospital on the VSI list? I don't know what action the Colonel will wish to take in this matter, but as the senior ranking officer present, I am relieving you of duty, effective immediately. I don't know whether or not you still have a career in the navy, Lieutenant, or even if you still want one, but I suspect that your assignment here is over. I suggest you take this opportunity to take a real hard look at yourself and decide what you want out of life. Dismissed."

The Lieutenant could only reply, "Aye, aye, ma'am" and leave the office. Pausing only to collect her cover and purse from where she had thrown them during her pursuit of Jen, she walked quickly, almost running in her hurry to get away, to the elevator.

Faith Coleman resumed her seat, and rubbed her face with her immaculately manicured hands. Oh, she thought, how I miss the well-ordered corridors of the SecNav's offices, and then grinned wryly as she remembered how glad she been to be reassigned from that ants' nest of gossip and back-biting. This current episode had, however, left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she knew that repercussions of incidents of this sort could possibly rumble on long into the future. But for the moment the unpleasant task of relaying to the Colonel the events of the day was hers; events that would be even more than usually unpleasant to recount by virtue of the involvement of the Colonel's Yeoman.

Mac was surprised on her return to the office to find Seaman Yates sat at her Yeoman's desk. Yes, she was a little later than she had planned, but it was only fourteen eleven hours, Coates should have had a little more faith in her CO, Mac thought, there was plenty of time yet before she needed to meet Mattie.

Yates almost leapt to his feet, as Mac said, "Hello, Yates, what are you doing here? Where's Petty Officer Coates?"

Yates turned a fiery red and tried, but failed, to string a coherent sentence together.

"Perhaps, I can help with that, Colonel?"

Mac turned her head to see a grave-faced Commander Coleman at the outer door to Coates' office. "Yes?" she inquired.

Coleman indicated Yates with a sideways glance and said, "It might be better Colonel if we discussed this just between the two us."

Mac considered the Commander. She had never been able to warm to the other woman; there was something about her borderline OCD that was vaguely off-putting. Nevertheless, she did, in a way, owe her something; she had put up a strong defence when Harm was court-martialled for the murder of Loren Singer. Admittedly, it was mostly the work of the NCIS agents, uncovering fresh evidence that had resulted in the charges being against Harm being dropped, but still…

"Very well, Commander," eventually responded Mac opening the door to her inner sanctum, "come in."

Mac took her accustomed seat at her desk, and waited while Commander Coleman closed the door and turned to face her.

This was ticklish, reflected Mac. Although she was senior to Coleman by virtue of command appointment, the two were still of equivalent ranks. "Take a seat, Commander," she invited.

Faith Coleman seated herself almost on the very edge of one of the two leather covered chairs facing Mac's desk, sitting very upright with her knees and feet together, her hands primly folded in her lap.

"You said you might be able to solve the mystery of the missing Yeoman," prompted Mac, trying to lighten what was fast becoming a tense atmosphere.

Faith Coleman drew a deep breath and began the unvarnished, and to her, distasteful re-telling of the lunch time incident and its aftermath.

At the tale's end, Mac, who had been listening with a growing sense of disbelief and despair, asked, "And where is Coates, now?"

"Still with Lieutenant Walker, Colonel. I thought it best if she were isolated from even sympathetic onlookers - for the moment anyway."

"Yes, thank you. Now, please be totally frank, who do you consider to bear the greater share of the blame for this incident?"

"Colonel, I don't believe there is any sharing the blame," replied Coleman, "If I had believed so, then not only would I have relieved Simms of her duties, but I would also have placed Coates under formal arrest. As it is, I believe Coates was placed under an undue amount of provocation, and the only thing, I repeat Colonel, the only thing I heard her say to Lieutenant Simms was 'what?'. And although the tone of her voice was perhaps not in strict accordance with good order and discipline it is hardly grounds for disciplinary action, I would have thought."

"But you said that you ordered Lieutenant Walker to take her into custody?"

"Yes, I did, but that was more to defuse an already volatile situation Colonel."

Mac considered for a few moments. The intertwinings of her personal and professional relations with Coates were beginning to take on Gordian propensities. It would take more than a snap decision to resolve this matter. Draconian measures were clearly not warranted, yet she could not totally ignore her Yeoman's lapse in protocol, but at the same time, Coates was so deeply involved with Harm and Mattie - especially now with Mattie - that Mac knew that the wrong decision could wreak havoc in all of their lives.

Drawing a deep breath, she said, "Thank you, Commander for an exceptionally clear and lucid briefing, and thank you too, for your opinion." She stood, indicating that the meeting was over.

Her move was matched by Commander Coleman, who gave a brief, bitter smile and said, "I wish I could say it was my pleasure Colonel."

Once the Commander had left the office, Mac called through the open door, "Yates, please present my compliments to Lieutenant Walker, and ask her if she would so good as to return my Yeoman to me, thank you."

The young seaman blushed nervously and almost tripped over his own feet as he rushed to do Mac's bidding. Despite her concerns, Mac could barely refrain from smiling; he reminded her so much of an overgrown puppy, desperately anxious to please, but unsure of how to achieve his aim.

Mac's amusement was however short-lived; across the bull-pen cam an odd procession. In the lead a shamefaced Coates, followed by the diminutive figure of Lieutenant Walker and bringing up the rear, an embarrassed Yates, supremely conscious of the curious stares directed at them from all quarters.

Mac waited until they had all crowded into the Yeoman's office. Mac indicated one of the chairs in the waiting area, "Sit down Petty Officer; return to your duties, Yates," and as he hesitated, unsure of Mac's meaning, she indicated the Yeoman's desk. "Lieutenant Walker, with me," and led the red-haired officer into her office.

By now too agitated to sit still, Mac paced her office, and asked her junior, "Well, what did she have to say for herself?"

Walker's reply in a soft, West-Texas drawl surprised Mac, "Why, ma'am, she never said a thing."

Mac, knowing from experience how voluble the Petty Officer could be, looked at Walker incredulously, "Nothing? Nothing at all?"

"No, ma'am," and anticipating Mac's next question she added, "An' that's because I advised her to keep her mouth fast shut."

"Why would you do that?" asked Mac.

The look she got in return was almost pitying, "Because ma'am, I had no idea of what you might want to say or do, and as far as I could tell, no-one had read the Petty Officer her Article Thirty-One rights."

"What made you think that the Petty Officer needed to have her rights read?"

"Because, ma'am." Walker's drawl was becoming marked, "I ovaheard Lieutenant Simms say that she was filin' charges agin' the Petty Officer."

"I see, thank you. And do you know whether Lieutenant Simms, did in fact file those charges?"

"No ma'am, I don'. But she was in with Commander Coleman a while, afore she lit outta here like her ass was… I mean in a helluva hurry. Beggin' the Colonel's pardon ma'am."

Again, Mac was hard put not to smile, remembering how she had once tried to plead Harm's case to a furious Admiral Chegwidden, but by an effort of will she was able to keep a straight face.

"Lieutenant Walker," she said sternly, unconsciously echoing the old Admiral, "did you just try to handle me?"

"No ma'am," replied the Texan officer, with an expression of wide-eyed innocence on her face.

"H'mm… alright, Lieutenant, dismissed."

"Aye, aye, ma'am, and thank you ma'am."

"Oh, and Lieutenant?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Ask my Petty Officer to step in please."

"Aye, aye, ma'am"

Lieutenant Walker, as she left Mac's office, looked at Jen and giving her a reassuring smile, and a wink, indicated that she was to go in and face the music, but somehow also conveying the idea that the music wouldn't be too bad or too loud.

Jen swallowed nervously, and smoothed down the creases in the front of her skirt, as if somehow that simple action might make the next few minutes easier.

"Ma'am, Petty Officer First Class Coates, reporting as ordered ma'am."

Mac observed her errant Yeoman, quivering with the strain of holding a perfect brace, and decided to let her stew in that position for a few minutes. Jen had managed, for once, to school her face into an expressionless mask, as she waited to hear what Mac had to say.

The two women maintained silence for two minutes, the one contemplating the wall some two feet above her CO's head, the other looking at balefully at her Petty Officer and trying to come to a decision. Eventually, Mac relented. "Coates," she said, "What am I going to do with you?"

"Ma'am, I don't know ma'am."

"Petty Officer, much as I might wish to, I cannot let this incident go. No," she held up a warning hand as Jen opened her mouth to speak, "I understand that you were grossly provoked, and that you were subject to an unforgiveable level of personal abuse, by someone who should have known better, and that your response to that provocation and abuse was minimal. But I cannot let you slide. I have no wish to file charges against you, nor do I wish anyone else to do so. Neither do I want to make this a formal Article Fifteen case; so, if you agree, what I propose is a non-punitive letter of reprimand to be placed on your file for a period of six months. In addition Petty Officer, whether I recommend you for promotion on your next fitness report, is at the moment, extremely doubtful, and will depend heavily upon your conduct and comportment for the remainder of this reporting period."

Jen felt a flutter of relief and her knees shook slightly, this was far more generous and far more lenient than she had expected.

"Yes, ma'am, thank you ma'am!"

Mac looked at her Yeoman and sighed, "At ease Petty Officer.

Jen adopted the less stressful position and waited, uneasily aware that Mac had not yet finished.

"Petty Officer, do you enjoy your work here?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Do you enjoy working for me?"

"Yes ma'am."

"And do you feel that your prior acquaintance with my husband or with Mattie or any conversations we may have had that are not work related, give you any sort of licence?"

"No ma'am."

"Good, because Petty Officer, they do not! Because Petty Officer, if I ever suspect that you even think that you have any thought of getting away with anything because of our prior or off-duty association, I will have you reassigned to the Aleutian Islands, so fast that your head will spin! Do I make myself clear, Petty Officer?" she finished with her voice rising to as near a copy of Admiral Chegwidden's roar as she could manage

"Yes ma'am!"

"Right, now that's cleared up, Coates," continued Mac in her normal tone, "resume your duties. Dismissed"

"Aye, aye ma'am!"

Jen thankfully told Yates to return to his normal duties, and looked through the paperwork that had been abandoned on her desk; picking up the messages that had been waiting for Mac's return, she sorted them into order of importance and with some trepidation, still not quite sure of her reception, she gently knocked on Mac's doorjamb. Giving a few seconds for Mac to be able to tell her to wait, Jen entered the office and coughed nervously, "Your messages ma'am."

"Thank you Petty Officer, anything urgent there?"

"Just the one ma'am. You are to report to the Base XO at oh eight hundred hours tomorrow. The rest are more of the usual 'X called, please call back' stuff ma'am.

"Thank you, Petty Officer, just put them in the box, please."

Jen had barely returned to her desk, when the 'phone rang.

"Joint Services JAG Team, Petty Officer Coates, sir."

"Jen! Where are you? I've been waiting ages!"

"Mattie?" Jen looked up at the clock; it was only twenty two minutes after three. "You can't have been waiting ages, the bus can only just have arrived."

"What bus? What are you talking about? I'm waiting for you here, at school!"

"What! Didn't the Colonel call you and tell you catch the bus to 32nd Street?"

"No, she told me to wait here at the school, and that you would come and get me!"

"Oh God! Mattie, don't panic; just hold on a second, and I'll get right back to you!"

Jen put Mattie's call on hold and opened the speaker-phone link to Mac. "Colonel, I've got Mattie on the line; she says you told her I'd pick her up from school!"

Mac burst out of her office, "Oh crap! I forgot to call her. Jenn… Petty Officer, take my keys, grab someone from the bull-pen and get her bags from the Mustang. Whoever it is can bring my keys back up. You get going and pick her up. Tell her I'm sorry for the confusion and that I…" Her voice tailed off as Jen almost snatched her keys and disappeared at a run, one hand holding her cover in place, while she yelled for Yates to get on her six.

Mac was left look at Jen's desk, with the receiver off the hook and the 'On Hold' light on line 1 blinking at her malevolently. Tentatively, as if afraid it might bite her, she picked up the hand set, and pressed the button, "Hello," she said.

"Mac?" the voice on the line was definitely Mattie's.

"Mattie, sweetheart, I'm sorry. There's been a bit of a mix up. It's all my fault. Stay exactly where you are, Petty Officer Coates has already left to pick you up. I'm really, really sorry, we'll talk later, OK?"

"Yes, OK, we will!" Somehow Mac was not reassured. She had a feeling that Mattie was going make her pay for her slip up.

It was only after she had replaced the receiver that Mac remembered that due to the Simms incident, she had decided, regretfully, as a signal to Coates that she was not yet entirely forgiven, to rescind her consent to Mattie staying at the Petty Officers' apartment. She sighed, it was too late now. There had been no time to cancel the arrangements, and still feeling a bit under the weather, she had no appetite for another argument with a bellicose and aggrieved teenager.

Jen, her foot pressing down on the gas-pedal, was frantic to reach Mattie's school before the younger girl was left alone, on her sticks, practically defenceless. The school was in what was generally reckoned a safe neighbourhood, but even so, Jen was still concerned.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she saw Mattie, sitting on the low wall that marked the school's front boundary. One of the yellow school buses was just pulling away as Jen drove up, and there was still a scattering of kids either waiting for their rides, or maybe just hanging out at the end of the school day.

"Hey, Jen," Mattie greeted her with an absolutely worry-free face. "Some screw up, huh?"

Mattie's insouciance had its effect on Jen, "Mattie, you wouldn't believe it!

"Yeah?"Mattie's reply was in tones of deepest scepticism, "try me!"

"Maybe later," half-promised Jen. "Are you in? Buckled in? OK, we're off!"

"Where're we going?" Mattie asked, "Shopping?" There was just the edge of a hint in her voice.

"Not today, hon. Hospital - to see Fran."

"Great! Oh, wow, not really great. I don't mean it's great that Fran's in hospital, I mean it's great that we're going to see her!"

"I know what you meant, Mattie, and it's kinda the way I feel too! Now, hush up and let me drive, please."

On arrival at the Navy Medical centre, Jen was dismayed to find that it must be peak visiting hours, all the parking lots were full, other cars seemed to be cruising and looking for spaces. Mattie sat puzzled while Jen completed a tour of the parking lots, but as she started a second lap, Mattie asked in a puzzled voice, "Jen, what are you doing?"

"I'm looking for a parking space, so that you won't have to walk so far!"

"Like those ones there?" Mattie asked innocently.

Jen looked across to where Mattie was indicating. "Mattie, they're disabled spots..." Jen's voice died away in mild embarrassment, as she realised that Mattie, a superior smirk on her face, was slowly waving her disabled badge to and fro. "Brat!" she said, but the dimple in her cheek belied the word.

Mattie gave a triumphant crow of laughter, as Jen eased in to one of the reserved spaces where she applied the emergency brake and switched off the engine. Jen got out of the car, and walked around to the passenger side in case Mattie should need help. It was always easier for her to slide into a car than to climb out. Jen's car had the added disadvantage that the doors weren't as big as those in Harm's Lexus, and of course his Corvette and Mac's Mustang were convertibles and had no headspace restrictions for Mattie to worry about.

Jen restricted her pace to match Mattie's slower progress, keeping an eye open for officers. The only problem she mused as she saluted for about the twentieth time in as many yards, is that hospitals are full of doctors and nurses, all of them commissioned, all of them requiring to be saluted, and then she added there's the damned visitors, saluting just in time to escape a reprimand from a scowling four-ring Captain with a submariner's pin above his medal ribbons. By the time she reached the main doors to the building her arm was already beginning to ache, and she was beginning to gain a new perspective on Lieutenant Simms' lunchtime predicament.

On entering the building however all thought of the brunette officer was driven from her mind. Being marched towards the doors was a coverless Tim Martinez, escorted by two brawny Marine Corps MPs. Quickly arriving at the correct conclusion that Tim had been arrested, Jen turned to Mattie, "Just hang back here a second, please," and approached the senior of the two MPs, a Staff Sergeant she saw with relief, the same pay-grade as herself; she might just be able to persuade him to stop and talk for a short time.

"Excuse me Staff Sergeant, I take it the Sergeant is under arrest?"

The MP gave her a measured look. Somehow Jen got the feeling that he wasn't really seeing her as a woman, but as a potential threat. At last he grudgingly said, "Yes, Petty Officer, he is."

Jen smiled in what she hoped was a disarming manner, "Dare I guess that he's under arrest for UA?"

Her smile failed to produce any thaw in the Staff Sergeant's manner, but he admitted, "Yep, and for disobeying a direct order," and added suspiciously, "do you know the Sergeant, Petty Officer?"

"I do," Jen admitted in her turn, "he's my room-mate's fiancé, she's in ICU," and dropping her voice conspiratorially, added in sombre tones "we don't know yet if she's going to make it."

"Uh-huh. And what do you think I can do about that? He's coming with us, plain and simple."

"Of course, he is," Jen acknowledged, "but might I have a quick word with him?" Jen saw the 'no' beginning to form on the MP's lips and added, "please? Just one minute."

The Staff Sergeant hesitated and looked across at his junior, who shrugged and said, "Why the hell not Staff Sergeant? There's the two of us, and only one of her. What can it hurt?"

"OK," the Staff Sergeant finally relented, "one minute and no contact, OK?"

"Thank you Staff Sergeant." Jen turned to Tim and asked urgently, "What's happening Tim? Have Fran's folks arrived?"

"Fran's hanging in there; her folks ain't here yet, but they're booked in at The Holiday Inn Express on Seventh Avenue. I told them on the phone I'd meet them there, but..." he gestured helplessly with his manacled hands.

"OK, Tim, I'll get in touch with them. What's their ETA?"

Their plane's due in at eighteen hundred hours, but I don't know if they'll go to the hotel first, or come straight here..."

"Alright Petty Officer," interrupted the MP Staff Sergeant, "time's up. Let's go Marine."

"OK Tim, stay positive, we'll get through this. Thank you Staff Sergeant."

Tim shrugged, and grinned sheepishly at Jen, and then as a thought struck he, he mouthed silently. "Fiancé?"

Jen pulled a face that she hoped indicated helplessness and watched, biting her bottom lip, as the three Marines continue their interrupted progress towards the main doors. She was joined by Mattie, who had been watching from a little distance, and asked curiously, "Hey, Jen, isn't that Tim?"

Jen nodded her agreement.

"Is he in trouble?" demanded the teenager.

"Yes, a bit. He's been UA, so the MPs have picked him up."

"How can he have been UA, he was here. This _is_ a navy place, right?" Mattie persisted.

"Yes..." Jen agreed thoughtfully.

"And he was here looking after someone he loved, right?"

"He was."

"But they still arrested him?"

"Yes, it seems they did."

"But, you said that Harm spent days and days with me when I got hurt? And he didn't get busted!"

Jen looked down into the indignant face turned towards her own, and suddenly realised she wasn't looking down all that far any more. "No, Mattie, he didn't get busted, because he had permission from the General. But it looks like Tim didn't."

Mattie looked disgusted, "That sucks!" she declared.

Jen looked fondly at the outraged girl, "Yes, it does a bit, doesn't it? But," she added with a quick smile, "I may have a plan..."

Mattie gave her a measured look, attempting to work out whether Jen had meant what she had said, or if she was merely trying to be comforting. Jen returned her look, saying nothing, but content with trying to look mysterious.

"C'mon, you," she said after a few seconds, let's get up to ICU." A fresh thought struck her, and she asked, "Mattie, it's quite a way along these halls, are you OK with the sticks, or should I get you a chair?"

Instead of reacting with bravado, Mattie appeared to give the question some serious thought, and then said, quite seriously, "Jen, if I want to get rid of these things permanently, my Physical Therapist says, the less time I spend in a chair and the more time I spend on my legs, the quicker that'll happen. So I guess I'll stay on my legs just for now, but," she added, "If I change my mind, is the offer still open?"

Jen realised that 'if I change my mind' was Mattie-speak for 'if it gets too much', and smilingly agreed, making a mental note to see that it didn't get too much for her young friend.

To Mattie's relief they made the trek to Intensive Care without her needing to call for a wheelchair, although she was relieved to be able to sit down in the waiting area once they had got there. Jen, who had been monitoring the Mattie's progress, had seen tell-tale signs of pain and tiredness, but had been dissuaded from calling a halt to their walk by the look of sheer determination on Mattie's face.

There was a minor hiccup at the Intensive Care Nurses' Station. The young Lieutenant JG on duty had been doubtful about allowing Mattie in to see Fran, thinking that the teenager was too young. It had taken Jen five minutes of persuasion, including an account of Mattie's own medical history, for her to win grudging permission. So the two of them, capped, masked and gowned as a precaution were finally allowed five minutes with Fran.

Mattie stared in horrified fascination at the battery of monitors, oxygen mask and drip-feeds attached to Fran. The state of the blonde Petty Officer from Milwaukee seemed to Jen's inexpert eye to be not much improved, if any, from her previous visit. As concerned as she was, she didn't want to say too much in front of Mattie, who, it was apparent even though she was masked, was shocked at Fran's condition.

Jen took one of Fran's hands in her own, and quietly said her name. Fran wearily opened her eyes and managed a weak grin, and to whisper "Hey Jen, I really goofed this time, huh?"

Jen felt her eyes prickling, but holding back her tears, she agreed, "Yeah, you did. But goofiness brings its own rewards; you've got a special visitor."

"Hi Fran, it's me, Mattie, how are you feeling?"

"Hey, Mattie, like I fell under a bus! I like what you've done with your hair."

The patent absurdity of Fran's comment, Mattie's hair being all but invisible, tucked under the surgical cap as it was, brought misty-eyed smiles to the visitors' faces.

"The Colonel was here earlier; she said I was to take it easy..."

Fran's eyes closed again, and Jen and Mattie, thinking that she had gone back to sleep, backed away from the bed, but Fran opened her eyes again and murmured, "I thought Tim was here too. I guess I must have been dreaming."

"No," Jen replied, fighting to keep her voice even, "He's been here all day, but he's had to go back to duty."

"Oh...well, if you see him, tell him..."

"I will, Fran, I will."

"You hang in there sailor," was all Mattie could think of to say, as Jen gently nudged her out of Fran's room.

Stripping off her cap and gown, Jen fished in her purse for a tissue, and blowing her nose, offered the packet to Mattie. Mattie's reply was a watery sniff of her own, prompting Jen to ask, "Are you OK, hon?"

Mattie's grin was a bit forced as she managed a sensible answer, "About as OK as you are."

Jen was forced to admit to herself that Mattie was right, but contented herself with guiding Mattie back towards the seating area, saying, "I just want a quick word with the nurse, so you take five, and then we'd best be on our way."

Jen's conversation with the nurse seemed to allay some of her fears; she seemed more cheerful as she watched Mattie slide back into the Escort's passenger seat. Once she had settled, Jen slid behind the wheel, and was about to turn the key in the ignition when Mattie asked, "Well?"

Jen paused, "Well, what?"

"Well, what did the nurse say?"

"Mattie, she couldn't say much; she's not allowed to. No matter how close we are to Fran, we're not her family, so we don't get to be fully in the loop. It's regulations."

"Navy regulations suck,"

"Yeah," Jen agreed, "sometimes they do. But that nurse wasn't too bad. Fran is improving. She's reacting well to the new meds, and her breathing is easier. It's still hard for her to breathe, though, that's why she's so tired all the time, but the nurse says if she continues to improve at this rate, she'll soon be back in a normal room."

"Oh, Jen that's great!"

"Yeah, it is!" agreed Jen, not mentioning that the nurse had also warned her that it was still early days and a relapse was still a possibility. "Anyway, kiddo, it's getting late, and I don't feel much like cooking this evening, and we still need to get you settled in. I figured I'd get something delivered. What do you fancy; pasta or pizza?"

The evening at Cape May Avenue passed quickly enough. Jen and Mattie got her bags upstairs, and managed to make Fran's bed for the young guest before the arrival of the Pizza - Mattie's choice, although Jen had chosen the ham and mushroom topping. Mattie had had wanted ham and pineapple, but had laughingly surrendered to Jen's choice when she had sat at the breakfast bar, steepled her fingers and intoned in Churchillian accents, "Young lady, there is never any excuse for putting pineapple on a pizza!"

After dinner, Jen had 'phoned the Holiday Inn, asking for Mr and Mrs Neumann's room, only to be told that the Neumanns had not yet arrived. Guessing that Fran's parents had gone straight to the hospital, Jen explained the circumstances and asked for an assurance that their room would be held for them.

Then had come a round of negotiations with Mattie. Since many of Jen's household rules were virtually the same as those that had governed their life in DC, especially those concerning shower times and the use of hairdryers - one of Jen's pet peeves - and under which Mattie had lived quite happily, there was little argument, except over the time of lights out. Jen insisted that ten o'clock was quite late enough on a school night, and was quite happy for Mattie to stay up till eleven on a Friday and Saturday. Mattie at first tried to push for an hour's extension to eleven o'clock and midnight respectively, but found to her chagrin that her friend was quite inflexible on this score. Jen pointing out that ten o'clock was her own bed-time, and she had no intention of losing any more sleep than Mattie was bound to cause her by accident!

Jen had been slightly disturbed, however, by one minor incident. At one point during the evening, Mattie had levered herself out of the armchair in which she had been sitting to visit the bathroom. She had stood up, a little unsteady on her feet, and walked without the aid of her sticks across the lounge area to the bathroom door. Walked, thought Jen, watching her anxiously, teeter-tottered more like. Jen knew little about medical science, but it had been nearly two years since Mattie's crash, and she was worried that the young girl ought to have made better progress in that time. She knew that it had been Mattie's ambition to join the navy and fly fighter jets, but apart from the fleeting mention of her weak legs of a few days ago, and an oblique reference to her fear of another crash, Mattie had remained stubbornly silent on the subject.

Jen also knew that Harm would, under normal circumstances, have been able to get Mattie appointed as a midshipman to the naval academy, but not with her present physiological problems. Oh, sure, if Mattie did recover enough to pass a navy medical while she was at college, she could still obtain a commission via ROTC, and her first choice college, USD, may well have been made with that option in mind. But that route to a commission wouldn't be her dream, and even if she passed fit for general duties, would she ever be fit enough to pass a flight medical?

Jen determined to bite the bullet, and once they had returned (she hoped they could, anyway) to that greater level of intimacy they had shared in DC, she would sit Mattie down and tackle her head-on about her options.

Preparations for bed also highlighted another situation that Jen hadn't foreseen. While Mattie could get into the bath quite easily, she found it almost impossible to get out again. Similarly she had difficulty in standing under the shower, so unless Jen was willing to stand in the bathroom with her while the younger girl showered - which she was not - and unless Mattie was willing for Jen to be there while she showered - which she was not - then something would have to be done. Somewhere, somehow, in the next twenty-four hours a shower-proof, and therefore probably plastic - bath stool would have to be found and purchased. But for tonight, and to their mutual embarrassment, Jen had had to stand watch over Mattie while she showered. Mercifully, thought Jen, the shower glass was frosted to such an extent that it was almost opaque and Mattie was no more than a blurred outline. But still, it was an uncomfortable feeling.

Mac spent the evening at home alone, pondering the case of Lieutenant Simms. It was impossible that Simms could return to work at JAG. In the first place, her reinstatement would thoroughly undermine Faith Coleman's authority and no matter how Mac might have felt about the Commander's actions, she had a duty and a responsibility to support, at least in public, a very senior member of her own staff. Especially when she agreed with that staff-member's actions! In the second place, Simms return would mean that Coates would have to go, and putting aside any personal feelings she might have, and Mac was honest enough to admit that she liked the Petty Officer, Coates was so damn' good at her job that she would be difficult - not impossible - but definitely difficult to replace. In the third place, Mac, although insulated from the everyday goings-on of the bull-pen had learned quite enough to know that Simms had been selectively bullying certain members of her staff, and realised that part of the day's performance had been a by-no-means- ineffective attempt at what Harm had once termed 'Dungaree Justice'

So, Simms would have to go. The problem is, Mac thought, how to go about it. It would be too easy to blast her career with just a straight-forward recounting of the facts, but Mac was not certain that she wanted to finish the Lieutenant's career. She had Simms' personal file in front of her, and checking back through her previous fitness reports, Mac found that she had consistently scored 3s and 4s, with enough 5s to indicate that at least some of her reporting officers had thought that she had the makings of a good officer. Looking back over Simms' past assignments, Mac found that she had always worked in highly structured and evidently goal-oriented environments, with a rigid chain of command. It may be Mac mused that she just hadn't been able to adjust to the less structured approach and the results oriented ethos of JAG. If that was the case, then in assigning Simms to JAG had just demonstrated that the navy was still capable of trying to fit square pegs into round holes. And although Mac recognised that under normal circumstances she could, herself, be intolerant of failure, she felt that on this occasion, that perhaps Simms deserved a second chance. But not, most definitely not, at JAG.

The second part of the problem, now that she had decided what to do, was how to go about it. Normally she would have told Coates what she wanted, Coates would have come up with a draft and between them they would have hammered out a finished result. However Coates' involvement with the Lieutenant had rendered that approach inappropriate. Indeed, much the same could be said for the involvement of any of her junior staff. Mac sighed, she would have to complete any documentation herself; it wasn't as if she wasn't used to writing briefs and reports, but she had got used to having a second opinion from someone she trusted, someone like Harm to check the legal sense of what she had written and somebody like Coates to check that she hadn't made any basic errors of spelling or grammar.

She would, also, of course, have to interview Simms in order to find out what the Lieutenant's attitude was; whether she wished to remain in the or whether she wished to resign; if the latter, then Mac certainly wasn't going to place any obstacles in her path. It would probably be easier all round if that did turn out to be Simms' wish. But the interview if it took place at JAG, would also lead to a great deal of embarrassment. Dammit, thought Mac, now I'll have to try and borrow an office on neutral ground!

Mac didn't have to think, she knew the time. Nineteen-thirty-eight hours here, so that's twenty-two-thirty-eight hours EST, a bit late... but maybe she could still catch Harm before he turned in. Getting up from her desk she wandered into the lounge making for the telephone, when it rang before she reached it. Her heart leapt into her mouth as she snatched the receiver from its cradle, "Harm?"

"Er... no...Mac?" The voice on the other end of the line was female.

"Yes, this is she..." Mac's voice was cautious, she didn't recognise the other voice.

"Oh, Mac, this is Catherine Johnson, Catherine Gale, that was. I don't know if you remember me? I used to work with Clay..."

"...ton Webb. Yes." Mac's voice had turned icy. "Yes, I remember you."

Indeed she did, Catherine Gale was the CIA lawyer with whom Mac had gone through a mock-wedding ceremony, with Bud Roberts as 'the chaplain' and then had had the nerve to show up at Harm's DC apartment five months pregnant! Oh yes, she remembered Catherine Gale! She had never discussed Catherine's condition with Harm, she knew him well enough to know that if he had been the father of her illegitimate child, he would have shouldered his responsibilities, at least in the financial sense. That Harm never mentioned either mother or child was proof to Mac of Harm's innocence, but still she felt jealously protective.

"What can I do for you Miss Gale?"

"Uh, it's Mrs Johnson now, Mac, but please, call me Catherine. This is really just a social call. My husband, Brett, has been re-assigned to San Diego Naval Base, and now that we've settled in, I was just going through the Base Telephone Directory, looking up old friends and acquaintances; just to let them know we're in town, and to invite them to a fall barbecue, on Saturday next week. Please say you'll come?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs...er... Johnson. My husband is out of town for a while, and I can't guarantee that he will have returned by then, and I really don't like attending parties without him. But thank you for asking," even as she spoke, Mac realised that her words absolutely reeked of insincerity. "Goodbye, Mrs Johnson."

Oh, that went well, thought Mac to herself. What the hell is wrong with me! I met Catherine Gale, what, twice? apart from when we were working on opposite sides over the de-classification of that missing submarine. I have no cause to hold anything against her, so why was I so hostile. Ye gods! 'My Husband is out of town', how pompous was that? Why didn't I just say 'Harm's in DC'? Maybe I'd better call her back and apologise... or maybe I'll just let it go... yes, that's probably for the best.

Feeling embarrassed at her overt display of bad manners, Mac thought again about 'phoning Harm but the mood was gone now. Discontentedly she slumped on to the couch, pulling her feet up under her. Reaching for the remote, she turned on the wall-mounted plasma-screen TV and started channel-hopping, more for something to do, than in any real expectation of entertainment. However, the glimpse of a BB firing a salvo brought her back to that channel, to find an old John Wayne movie 'The Sands of Iwo Jima' being aired. Quite prepared to be entertained by the improbable fictional on-screen heroics, which were cut in with the real combat scenes shot by Marine Corps cameramen, Mac settled down for an enjoyable hour or so.

During one of the commercial breaks, Mac was startled by a sudden growl from her stomach reminding her that she hadn't eaten all day. She considered the idea eating something, since her second bout of nausea before lunch she had felt fine, but she debated the wisdom of feeding whatever bug might still be lurking inside her, but a further protest from her stomach led to a cheese sandwich - no butter - and a glass of mineral water.


	7. 05 October 2007

**Friday 05 October 2007**

Jen woke on Friday morning with an indefinable sense of well-being. Glancing at her alarm clock she saw that it still wanted fifteen minutes before six o'clock. Throwing on shorts and T-shirt, she laced up her sneakers, and checking key, whistle and pepper-spray, pausing only to wake Mattie and admonish her to be sure and be finished in the bathroom by the time she got back, she headed for what had become her regular morning run out along the cycle track to the Pacific Highway and back. She still hated running, she didn't think she'd ever change her mind about that, but she enjoyed the crispness of the early fall morning, and preferred that she warmed herself up, rather than have the hot summer California sun do it for her. Returning to Cape May Avenue, she paused on the steps to the house, wondering if the ocean was still warm enough for an early morning swim. She had seen surfers out there on their boards, but they wore wet-suits, which insulated them against cold water. Maybe, she giggled to herself, she should ask a SEAL, the next time she met one!

Mattie was dressed and pottering about the kitchen area by the time Jen regained the apartment, but her damp hair was evidence that she'd manage to shower, and judging by the lack of bruises, without incident.

"'Morning Mattie," Jen hailed, as she headed for the bathroom.

"Hey, Jen. I was figuring on whipping up some pancakes - do you want a couple?"

Jen thought about it for a few seconds and said, "OK, but let me shower first - oh, no - we can't, Mattie. We have to leave early today, Mac's got an early appointment, and I need to be there before she leaves the office. So we gotta hustle. Just put some coffee on, please, and if you're hungry, can you make do with toast? Please?"

Having reminded herself of the need to leave early, Jen was now in a hurry. Blessing the fact that she had woken early and not been tempted to remain in bed until the alarm had gone off, she hurried through her shower and shampoo, and enlisted Mattie's help into twisting her hair into its accustomed and Mattie-loathed French Plait - something with which she and Fran routinely helped each other. Making sure that Mattie had her shoulder bag containing books, pens, pencils and medicines for the day, Jen whisked them down to the Escort and on their way to Mattie's school. Dropping Mattie, at what she termed a too early start to the day, at the schoolyard gates, Jen pointed the Escort in the direction of 32nd Street and accelerated smoothly towards the working day.

A side-benefit of her early arrival was that she got to park close to the building instead of half-way across the parking lot. Almost running up the steps into the building, her cheerful, "'Morning marine," brought an answering grin to the face of the duty security man. Forbidden by regulations from speaking while on duty, grin was all he could do, but as she walked past him, he could not help but think, damn' that's one fine lookin' gal! His momentary lapse was brought to an end by the far from fine lookin' face of his Corporal as the NCO almost magically swam into his view, and his ears were assailed by the Corporal's sharp Boston twang, "What'n the hell are you smirkin' at Marine?"

Jen, completely unaware of the scene of which she had been the unwitting cause paused for a moment, debating whether to take the stairs or the elevator, and decided that seeing that she was so full of energy this morning it would have to be the stairs.

Reaching the bull-pen on the third floor, Jen checked her watch, twenty to eight. If she made the coffee now, the Colonel might have time for few gulps before she headed to the Base HQ, no more than a five minute walk away.

Mac, in the house on Pacific Avenue had woken slowly and reluctantly, sitting on the side of her bed, dressed in her favourite pyjamas, she was only too well aware that she was once again feeling queasy. Dammit, she thought, I knew I shouldn't have had that sandwich - I knew I should have given myself another day to get that bug out of my system! Well, no run for me today! But she could use the extra time to make sure that her uniform and grooming were more than fit for her meeting with the Base XO. By repute, he was a stickler in matters of presentation and grooming. On which subject, she mused, she had better get back into the habit of storing a spare uniform at the office - she did not want to have to go through the trouble and embarrassment of trying to hand scrub another blouse, or the expense of buying a new one, which she had ended up doing yesterday! The thought of uniforms stored at the office brought a smile to her face as she remembered Admiral Chegwidden's reaction to finding half of Coates' wardrobe stashed in his filing cabinet! Poor Coates, a Petty Officer Second Class at that time, had gone through a period where it seemed nothing she did met with the Admiral's approval.

Returning from reminiscences of the past to the reality of the present, Mac gave careful consideration to the state of her stomach - dare she risk anything to eat, or was she better off just having a coffee? Although she was feeling distinctly hungry, she decided against trying to eat, but the thought of coffee set her taste buds tingling.

With the extra time gained by the sacrifice of her run, notwithstanding the extra time she spent showering and shampooing, Mac was able to leave home a little earlier than she had planned. Under normal circumstances Mac enjoyed driving, especially her beloved Mustang; she had been in her late twenties when muscle cars had entered her life and she loved the feeling that she was in control of such power, but today, the motion of the vehicle was only adding to the discomfort she felt in her digestive tract. She entered the office not more than five minutes after her Yeoman, and seeing Coates' cover on her desk, knew where the Petty Officer was without even having to think about it. Coates may not have realised it, but Mac knew that her Yeoman was a creature of habit. So Mac was not surprised, when a couple of minutes later, Coates rapped on her office doorjamb and with a totally unselfconscious, "Good morning, ma'am", gently placed Mac's coffee cup on her desk and returned to her own office. Temporarily speechless Mac gazed after her in some astonishment; she had fully expected that after yesterday's uproar Coates might be feeling a more than a little awkward around her CO, but there absolutely no trace of hesitancy or awkwardness in her behaviour. Mac took a sip of her coffee and gave a slight shake of her head in wonderment at her yeoman's carefree manner, and then froze in place as her stomach again rebelled.

Stalking through the Yeoman's office into the bull-pen, which was beginning to fill, Mac managed a tight-lipped "With me!" to her Petty Officer, and Jen wondering what she'd done now, followed her down the hall in some dismay, Mac stopped halfway down the hall and threw open the door to women's room, and checking to make sure it was empty, she turned once more to Jen and snapped "Post this door!" and then with a muttered "Oh God!" vanished through the door into the sanctuary beyond! Jen fought back a grin; the nature of Mac's disappearance had forcefully reminded her of the White Rabbit in 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland'. It seemed an age before Mac emerged, ashen-faced, from the women's room, an age during which Jen had resolutely forbidden a Marine Corps Lieutenant, two Petty officers and a Seaman Personnel Specialist from entering.

Mac ignored Jen's anxious, "Ma'am, are you alright?" until her third iteration of the question, by which time Mac had grabbed her cover from her office, and on the point of making her way out, snapped "No! I'm late, I'm late!" and stopped in absolute incredulity when she thought she heard Jen say "Oh, my paws and whiskers!"

"What was that, Petty Officer?" she demanded thunderously.

"Did I... did I just say that out loud, ma'am?" faltered Jen, a sick look on her face and suddenly weak at the knees.

"We will discuss this later, Petty Officer," Mac promised and with a hostile glare at Jen, stormed across the bull-pen towards the elevators.

Jen almost collapsed into her seat. Damn! She thought, I felt so positive this morning and then I go and screw up like that, and just when I wanted to take some extra time for lunch today...

The insistent tone of the first 'phone call of the morning interrupted her train of thought; she sighed, and picked up the receiver, "JLST JAG, Petty Officer Coates, sir..."

Mac was fuming as she left the building and strode across the parking lot. Damn Coates' impertinence she thought, how dare she! Oh my paws and whiskers! Oh my paws and whiskers indeed... and suddenly Mac began to chuckle, as the memory of her own words "I'm late"chimed with the words of a song from the Disney animation of 'Alice' which ran through her head, 'I'm late, I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date...' No wonder Coates' mind had made the connection, but still to actually dare to make the link out loud when she must realise that Mac was in no very good humour. Then again... Mac recalled the time when she had been made a similar slip with the Admiral, she had been far more impertinent on a far more personal level, and he'd had the grace to let it pass...

Before she knew it she was at the Base HQ building and showing her ID to an armed Marine sentry. Passed through to the second floor she found the XO's Master Chief's Office and introduced herself to him. He glanced at his wall clock and said, in repressive tones, "Ma'am, you are six minutes late"

"Four minutes, Master Chief."

"Ma'am?"

"Four minutes, Master Chief, it is oh-eight-oh-four hours, not oh-eight-oh-six. Now, please pass me in Master Chief."

"Aye, aye, ma'am!"

The meeting with the Base XO did not take long. He referred to a message pad in front of him, on which Mac gathered was a version of her recent conversation with Colonel Picton, the Base Provost Marshal. concerning street lighting after ten o'clock at night. The XO asked Mac to repeat her concerns and merely asked could she not reduce the hours she asked her people to work.

"I have already done so, sir," she replied gravely, "and we will be able to cope under these conditions for a short time, but in the long term we will need to up our hours again. I have a very small staff with very few lawyers, their case loads are heavy; correspondingly they make heavy demands on my support and administrative staff."

"Colonel," the XO replied "are you expecting me to find you more staff?"

"No sir."

"Or are you just making excuses as to why you cannot do your job?"

"No sir. Neither. If I thought I could have more staff assigned to me, and that he could find them for me, my approach would be to the JAG in DC. If it should prove that I cannot do my job, you will not have to worry about me, because that same JAG in DC would have my ass on a plate!"

"Watch your attitude Colonel!" the XO barked.

"Sir," Mac drew a deep breath, and continued in tones of great patience, "I didn't come here today to argue about manning levels or job performance. Sir," she indicated his left hand, "you wear a wedding band. Do you have a daughter?"

"Yes, but what's that got to do with all this" he gestured at the papers on his desk.

"Sir, I have eighteen women working for me, both sailors and marines, from Navy Commander down to Marine PFC, from barely nineteen years old to approaching my own age. While they are on this base they are my responsibility, sir, and it is part of my job as their CO to keep them safe from harm and unnecessary risk! Just as it is, sir, if you will permit, part of your job as a father to protect and keep safe your daughter! And with all due respect, sir, if I failed to raise an issue that might help keep them safe from harm, then I would be derelict in my duty; as you would be, sir, if you failed to take what steps you could to protect your daughter."

"Damn it Colonel!" The XO's voice rose to a shout, "you are getting dangerously near insubordination!"

"That may be, sir," replied Mac evenly, "but that doesn't make what I say any less true, sir!"

The Base XO glared across his desk at her. In his mid-fifties, and although there had been a long history of women in the navy and the marine corps, he had difficulty in adjusting to women in positions of authority in either service, and faced with a much younger female officer only one step below him in rank he was out of his comfort zone, but if he was ever to make flag rank he could never let that be known.

"Alright, Colonel," he finally grunted, "seeing that you put it in that light, I will make the same argument on your behalf, at the next meeting of the budget and finance board. Dismissed!"

Mac rose to her feet, "Aye, aye, sir!"

Back at the JAG office, Jen had her concentration fixed on her computer screen, furiously attempting to create some dead time for herself, but well aware of the provisions of Parkinson's Law, when a voice from the past broke her concentration. "Hi, there Coates!"

Looking up she a saw smiling face she had last seen three years ago. Jumping to her feet she shouted in pleased surprise and recognition, "Tiner!" and then as she took in the details of his uniform, she corrected herself, "I beg your pardon sir! Good morning Lieutenant Tiner!" And unable to contain her curiosity, she asked, "What are you doing here...Sir?"

Lieutenant Tiner grinned widely. He flipped open a shiny, new briefcase and extracted a manila envelope, "Orders, Petty Officer!"

He had always found Jen to be attractive, but just a little bit intimidating. Although they were roughly the same age, he always felt much younger in her presence. But on this occasion he had a slight advantage. He had known that Jen was part of the San Diego office, whereas she had obviously no idea that he was being assigned.

Jen quickly scanned the proffered orders. There could be no doubt, Lieutenant Jason Tiner, USN JAG Corps was assigned to JAG JSLT, South West, San Diego. Pretending to read the orders in detail, she snatched several furtive glances under her brows at the officer stood confidently in front of her desk.

Tiner had worked at nights for years in order to pass his law exams and then to pass the State Bar Association exam. His persistence had paid off and on completion of his legal courses he had applied for and been accepted for a navy commission. His courses at the Rhode Island Officer Development School and the Naval Justice School had given him a maturity and confidence that Petty Officer Tiner, even as an admiral's Yeoman had lacked.

Jen saw the difference in her old acquaintance, and liked what she saw. Even though it had been a minor nuisance at first, constantly having to turn down his attempts at making a date with her, she had eventually convinced him that she was never going to date him, and their relationship had settled down as the two of them became friends, and she had developed a soft spot for him.

Handing back his orders, she smiled warmly at him and said, "Congratulations, sir! We all at JAG knew you could do it! The CO is away from her desk for the moment, sir, if you would like, I can get someone to show you the galley?"

Returning the smile, Tiner replied, "Thank you, Petty Officer, I'd appreciate that."

Handing the newly arrived officer on to Petty Officer Gutierrez, with instructions to make sure that the Lieutenant was to be offered coffee and, with a smile of shared remembrance, a bearclaw, Jen returned to her work with a smile on her face and renewed energy.

It was not too long before Mac returned to her desk. Jen stood as she entered the outer office and braced herself for a reprimand, which she hoped to divert with the news of Tiner's assignment. Mac stopped, and looked at Jen's anxious face, trying to think why her Yeoman should look so apprehensive, and then as she remembered Jen's earlier comment, she could feel despite herself, her face creasing into a smile. Making a major effort to control herself she asked, in the sternest voice she could muster, "Petty Officer, what on earth made you make the connection between myself and the White Rabbit?"

"Ma'am, it was a combination of things ma'am. I'm sorry ma'am, and I know it's not funny, especially as you were feeling unwell, but when you went into the bathroom, you kinda dived in, kinda like a rabbit diving down a hole..." Jen's voice trailed off miserably, then gulping she bravely continued, "and then ma'am, you said, 'I'm late, I'm late' and because I'd already gotten the rabbit image in my mind's eye the whole paws and whispers thing just popped into my head, and I never meant to say it out loud, ma'am."

A dejected Jen stood in front of Mac who, by now was enjoying the whole scene immensely, and finding it almost impossible to keep a straight face, could barely manage an "H'mm," without losing her composure. Mac managed to stare at Jen for a few seconds more, then turned and silently entered her own office, where closing the door, she had to stuff her knuckles into her mouth to stifle the laughter she could no longer hold back. It took some few minutes for Mac to regain her composure, during which time Jen, in blissful ignorance of her CO's mirth, retrieved Lieutenant Tiner from the galley. Critically inspecting him, she made him wipe his mouth, and rinse his hands while she flicked a few crumbs from his shirt. Then leading him back to her office, she told him to stay out the line of sight, while she knocked on Mac's doorjamb, and waited to hear if she was denied entry. Being greeted with silence, she opened the door to find Mac behind her desk and apparently absorbed in a legal manual,

"Ma'am, we have a new officer on assignment."

Mac who had been told that her staff was to be augmented, was not surprised by the news, but she was taken aback when on signifying that the new officer should be shown in to her, Jen came up with one of the broadest grins that Mac had ever seen and announced, "Lieutenant Jason Tiner, ma'am!" and quietly closed the door behind him.

Mac stood, at a loss for words, as Tiner came forward, and standing to attention declaimed, "Lieutenant Tiner, reporting for duty as ordered, ma'am!"

Mac could hardly believe the evidence of her eyes and ears. Of course while she had known that it was always possible that the path of the former Petty Officer could cross with hers at some point - there were after all only 750 Navy JAG Lawyers for the whole of the Navy and Marine Corps - it had somehow escaped her mind that she could become his Commanding Officer.

Nevertheless, she stepped around her desk and offering him her hand she said, "Congratulations Lieutenant, welcome to JSLT San Diego!"

"Thank you ma'am," he replied with that well-remembered grin. "Ma'am, it is my pleasure and my privilege to serve under you!"

Somehow the words coming from his mouth did not sound like an empty formula, as they could so easily have done. This was, despite the officer's bars on his shoulders, despite his new found maturity and confidence, still the essentially the same Tiner that she had known in DC. Her smile, in its turn held genuine warmth as she said, "I mean it, Jason, welcome aboard!" It was the first time that Mac had ever called him by his first name, and it was a moment he would be a long time in forgetting.

Stepping past him and opening her office door, she said, "Petty Officer, it seems that Lieutenant Tiner has indeed come to join us. Do you think you can get him squared away somewhere?"

"Yes, ma'am. I think if we move the Xerox and its paper to the small room just this side of the conference room, we could install the Lieutenant where the Xerox is now. It'll be tight, but at least there's a window behind the shelves, and it will give him some privacy."

"Alright, Petty Officer, make it happen."

"Aye, aye ma'am. Ma'am?"

"Yes, Petty Officer?"

"I was wondering ma'am, if I get Yates to cover my desk for me this afternoon, so I can secure early. I could work through lunch, but then ma'am I need to get out and tackle the Neumann and Grace cases ma'am?"

"Have you managed to get hold of the Neumanns yet Petty Officer?"

"No ma'am, but I do know where they should be, and once I've spoken to them ma'am, I can then get on to the Grace question."

Mac was rather amused at the veiled language Jen used to keep Lieutenant Tiner out of the loop. He had looked interested on hearing the words cases and question, but was obviously puzzled as to the reason a Yeoman should be so actively involved.

Mac deliberated for a further few seconds, and finally agreed, "Alright Petty Officer, ensure that Lieutenant Tiner is squared away. Make sure that your in-box is empty and that you carry out a thorough and comprehensive handover to Yates, and then you can secure for the weekend. Oh, just one other thing, please organise three cups of coffee in my office, and pass the word for Lieutenant Walker to join us there."

"Aye, aye, ma'am."

The organisation of the working party to move the Xerox was simply a matter of asking Petty Officer Wayne to take charge of the task. As he walked into the bull-pen calling the names of four of five of his brawniest seamen, Jen smiled to herself, it was all just a matter of delegation.

The clearing of her in-box she carried out at the same time as she briefed Yates, using the one to instruct the other. While she was engaged in this task, she suddenly realised, Yates was Tiner, or rather Tiner as he would have been as a very young sailor, and wondered if the same idea had struck Mac!

She took the task of passing the word for Lieutenant Walker on her own shoulders, and as she did so, thanked the Lieutenant for her moral support of the day before. Her thanks were repaid by a smile and a gleam of amusement in a pair of sleepy looking green eyes.

Finally having made sure that Yates had provided the coffee for the CO's office, and with a sigh of relief, Jen collected her cover and purse and sliding into the driver's seat of her Ford, she headed for Seventh Avenue.

On arrival at the Holiday Inn, Jen discovered that the Neumanns were not in the hotel. They had checked in late last night, but had gone out this morning, and hadn't yet come back. Jen then called the ICU, only to find that she had just missed them, the Neumanns having sat by their daughter's bedside all morning, had finally been persuaded to stretch their legs and eat lunch, while Fran slept; no, the nurse was sorry, she hadn't gotten their cell 'phone number.

Gritting her teeth in frustration, Jen decided that although Fran's parents probably didn't know more than a couple of places in San Diego, it would be no use in trying to guess where they would be at any given minute. She was sure they wouldn't stray far from the hospital or the hotel, but where exactly, was anybody's guess.

Jen began to deliver a verbal message to the concierge for the Neumanns but then decided that delivery would be more certain if she let them a note. Obtaining paper and envelope from the concierge she sat at one of the tables in the atrium and started to write. The atrium was quiet, but just as she was about to seal the envelope, she heard someone at the reception desk, and wondered if it might be Mon and Pop Neumann returning from their lunch. Looking up she saw the person at the desk was a single man, who was apparently checking in. Losing interest in the arrival she had just written the Neumann's name on the envelope, when she heard the concierge summoning a bell boy to take Mr Caldwell's luggage up to suite 212.

Taken by surprise, it was several minutes before she could decide whether to confront him or not. But the reflection that she had been wondering how to talk with Caldwell without Mattie's knowledge decided her in favour of intervening. She didn't relish what would probably be a very disagreeable conversation, but mentally bracing herself, she stood and turning towards him, asked in a cool, pleasant tone. "Mr Caldwell?"

Caldwell had taken a seat at a nearby table and had picked up a newspaper from the selection available, and was rather idly leafing through it, but he lowered it, and looked inquiringly across at her. His eyes which were deep-set and light grey in colour contrasted with his dark tan, and held an expression of mild surprise, "Yes?" he said.

If he was surprised, Jen was thoroughly startled. She hadn't formed any sort of mental picture of him, but she certainly hadn't expected to see a tall, loose-limbed man, some years older than herself, with harsh, deeply lined, and heavily tanned features, dressed negligently in a denim shirt, faded jeans, scuffed hiking boots, and nothing like the well-groomed and well-dressed player she had expected to confront.

She was so taken aback, that all she could do for several very long seconds was stare at him. He had been described to her as cute, but he was nothing of the sort. He had also been described as a gambler and a player, and that she could quite easily believe, there was a kind of reckless aura about him, and she supposed that his craggy features might appeal to some women. But there was absolutely nothing about him that she could see that would appeal to Mattie!

But as she continued to stare, she saw that a glimmer of amusement had crept across his face, and that his mouth showed the hint of a smile, and she suddenly saw what it was that had so strongly attracted Mattie and even Fran. As the humour broke across his face, she was suddenly and forcefully reminded of Harmon Rabb! Even so, there was nothing about him that would lead Fran, even in her silliest moments, to call him 'cute'.

As she became aware of the length of time she had been staring wordlessly at him, she blushed fiercely and stammered, "I... I... I'm sorry... I think I must have made a mistake! I mean... _are_ you Mr Caldwell?

"Well, I've never been given any reason to suppose that I'm not!" he replied.

"You _are_? But you _must _be...?" Recollecting herself, Jen broke off and said, with all the dignity, which was not a lot at that moment, that she could summon, "I am Jen Coates, Petty Officer Jen Coates."

She saw that her introduction had some effect. His smile vanished and his eyebrows snapped together in a frown. "Petty Officer Who?" he said.

"Coates," she repeated, "Jen Coates."

For a moment he looked startled, and then as his curiously pale eyes scanned her, he surprised even further by saying, "I like your name! It suits you!"

Her temper suddenly rising, Jen allowed herself to be sidetracked from the reason she had started this conversation, with an edge to her voice she said "Thank you for your opinion! But, I did not talk to you because I wanted to discuss whether or not my name suits me!"

"No, of course you didn't," he said so soothingly that she felt an almost irresistible urge to slap him, "Tell me what you do want to talk about, and I'll try and accommodate you, even if I have absolutely no idea why you should want to talk to me at all. I must warn you though; I've absolutely no social skills at all. Er... but have we met before?"

"No!" she stormed her voice dripping contempt, "You know very well that we have not met before! But you must admit to knowing one of my ... one of my friends!"

"Oh, I'll admit that!" he assured her. "Please, sit down."

"I am," raged Jen, "Mattie's _in loco parentis,_" ignoring the invitation. Her claim wasn't quite the truth Jen acknowledged inwardly, but it was far simpler than trying to explain the real situation. However her statement didn't seem to disturb him at all.

"No, are you? You don't look _loco_ and you certainly don't look old enough to be anybody's _parentis_" he remarked.

This remark was spoken almost casually, as though it hadn't mattered at all that he had just been extremely rude. He seemed to have no idea that he had said anything out of place; neither from his casual indifference could Jen think that he had meant it as a compliment. She began to think that he was a very strange man, and was going to be a lot harder to deal with than she had thought. He was playing with her and the sooner she made him realise that she wasn't playing the better it would be. So she said icily, "You know exactly who I am; you know I am Mattie's _in loco parentis_!"

"Yes," he agreed, "you've just told me!"

"You knew it as soon as I said my name!" She checked herself, fighting to regain control of her temper; she was beginning to lose it far too easily these days. With a major effort, she said, as pleasantly as she was able, "Mr Caldwell, can we be honest with each other? You must know why I introduced myself. You managed to work your way into my friend's good books, but you can't possibly have thought you could fool all of Mattie's friends."

He was watching her intently, but with an expression of amusement on his face which threatened to make her temper rise again. He said, "No, I don't think I did expect to fool them all, but if _your friend_ likes me...!

"My friend, Mr Caldwell, didn't know, until I told her that you were not who she thought, but a losing gambler and a player!" Jen snapped.

"Oh," he said in reproach, "That wasn't a very kind thing to do. Has she gone right off me now?"

Jen now made the discovery that it was quite possible to be blazingly angry, and at the same time have the greatest difficulty in not bursting out into laughter. After a struggle, she managed to say, "This... this is hopeless, Mr Caldwell. Just let me tell you that you have no chance of Mattie's legal guardian ever allowing her to accept your proposal, and also let me tell you that her inheritance is much less than you seem to think it is! I assume that's something you didn't know!"

"No," he admitted, "I didn't know that!"

"Not," she added, "a very good prospect, is it?"

"No, it seems to be a very bad one. By the way, who is Mattie's legal guardian?"

"Harmon Rabb of course! Surely she must have at least told you that!" Jen replied impatiently.

"Well, no..." he said apologetically, "she's not really had the opportunity to tell me!"

"Had no opportunity...! Mr Caldwell, are you asking me to believe that you started this attempt to recoup your losses without trying to check your mark's background? I don't believe you!"

"Well you were the one," he said, "who started talking about inheritances. Who were her family? I assume they're dead if she stands to inherit."

"Mattie's mother is dead; her father is an unfit parent. Their names were Tom Johnson and Emily Grace, from Blacksburg, Virginia. All they owned was a small farm and a crop dusting company. Hardly worth your while, is it!"

"She's Tom Johnson's daughter? From Blacksburg?" he interrupted, suddenly frowning.

"Yes," replied a puzzled Jen.

"Poor girl," he said, "and are you related to him as well?"

"No, I'm not," she denied, "although what that's got to do with it..."

"Oh, nothing at all, now I think about it!" He said smiling at her, "Did you say that Mattie's mother's dead? When did she die?"

The question was so casually asked that Jen had trouble in believing she had heard correctly, and seemed so out of context that she began to suspect that he was drunk. She couldn't smell any liquor, and his speech wasn't slurred. If he wasn't drunk or maybe stoned, then Jen was at a loss to explain his odd behaviour. She eyed him uneasily; she had been used to dealing with men from her mid-teens and usually felt in control. But this Caldwell was unsettling her. She couldn't figure out what he was trying to achieve unless he was in some strange manner trying to gain the upper hand over her, but the look of amusement in his face made her feel that he had something in mind. She gently squeezed her purse, reassured by the slim outline of her canister of pepper-spray. She was further unsettled when he asked her quite bluntly, "How old are you?"

"Why, how old do you think I am?" She countered.

"Oh," he said carelessly, "just a child."

Jen raged at him "I'm twenty-seven years old!"

"I'm sorry, but twenty-seven seems like a child to me." But his tone carried no hint of apology.

Jen was now fuming, but for the second time during this discussion she was forced to choke back an involuntary giggle. She said unsteadily, "Talking to you is like...like... talking to a brick wall!"

"Is it? I've never tried talking to a wall. Isn't it a waste of time?"

"Not as much of a waste as talking to you!" she choked.

"You're not trying to tell me that walls find you more interesting than I do?" he asked in a voice of disbelief.

This was too much for Jen; she did giggle and was immediately furious with herself for doing so.

"That's better," he said approvingly.

Making a major effort, Jen regained her self control, "Let me ask you one question: If I seem like a child to you, how do you think of a girl of seventeen?"

"Just a babe in arms."

His careless answer made Jen gasp. Her eyes dark with anger she demanded, "Well just how old do you think Mattie is?"

"No idea, I've never met the girl!"

"Never met her...! But... Hell! You can't be Caldwell! But when I asked, you said you _were_!"

"Of course I did! Tell me: is there a nephew of mine running loose in San Diego?"

"A _nephew_! A... a... Stacy Caldwell?"

"Yes, that would be him. I'm his Uncle Miles."

"Oh" was all Jen could say starting at him in astonishment. "You can't mean the one who..." For a second time that day Jen's voice trailed off in confusion, but rallying she added hurriedly, "The one who went to South America!"

He laughed, "Yes, I'm the black sheep of the family!"

Again Jen felt herself redden, "I wasn't going to say that!"

"Why not? You won't hurt my feelings."

"I wouldn't be so rude," retaliated Jen, "and if it comes to black sheep..."

"Bound to, once you get into the Caldwells," he grinned, ignoring Jen's retaliatory attempt, "The family came over on the Mayflower, or so they'd have people believe. It's my belief that if the original Caldwell did come over on the Mayflower he was either a sailor who jumped ship, or a stowaway! There are so many people who claim the Mayflower as their families' pedigrees that there must have been hundreds of stowaways, gallows-bait most of 'em"

Jen's delighted laughter broke out, "Oh, no! Hundreds of them! I've never met anyone who claimed his ancestors were deserters or stowaways or gallows-bait!"

"No, I don't suppose you would! I've never met any of these came-over-on-the-Mayflower guys who wouldn't have it said any other than his family was one of the founding fathers! Hah! The riff-raff of England more likely! I do wish you'd sit down!"

At this point Jen knew that the responsible thing to do was to say goodbye to Mr Miles Caldwell, but instead she sat down in one of the easy chairs, wondering if she might persuade Miles Caldwell in helping her spoil Stacy Caldwell's plans. Miles Caldwell sprawled ungracefully on the couch opposite Jen, his legs thrust out straight before him and his hand shoved into his jeans pockets. Jen's eyes gleamed in appreciation, he was so entirely different in dress and grooming from the squared away sailors and marines she worked with, and she found it strangely refreshing. "Can I be open with you, about your nephew? I don't want to be rude, but it seems that he is the black sheep of your family!"

"I wouldn't say that." He reflected. "Sounds more like a fool to me, if he's relying on a girl with no money to save his bacon!"

"I've heard that Mattie isn't the only girl he's tried his tricks on!"

"Well, if he's got a reputation as a player, I shouldn't think she is!"

Jen fingers tightened around her purse-strap. "Mr Caldwell, I haven't met your nephew yet. He came to San Diego while I was away, and he was called away to DC on business, I'm told, before I got back. I had hoped that he had given up on Mattie and that he wouldn't be returning, but I guess from your being here, that he will be back seeing that you're here to visit him."

"Good God, no! Whatever put that idea into your head", he exclaimed.

Jen blinked, "Well, I assumed you'd come to meet him! I mean... you're his closest relative, and I understand that he's the only other surviving member of your family!"

"So what? You know, all this crap about families and relatives is just that! I haven't seen my nephew since he was in diapers - if I ever saw him then, which I probably didn't, I never went near my brother if I could avoid it - so why should I want to see him now?"

Jen could think of no answer to this, but he seemed so ruthless, that she wondered whether his being bundled off to South America had made him bitter. Her own bias against her father made Caldwell's attitude understandable. However, his next words, in a thoughtful, completely dispassionate tone, effectively scotched her suspicions, "You know... there's a great deal of bull talked about family affection. How much affection do you have for _your_ family?"

Jen's breath caught in her throat, "I loved my mother very much."

"Ah, she died when you were young?"

"Yes."

"Is that why you identify so closely with your Mattie"

Jen was forced to admit it, "Probably, yes."

"What about the rest of your family?"

"I was an only child; my father was a minister and he loved God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost. His love of God didn't leave much love over for me." Jen could still not after all these years keep the bitterness out of her voice, "What about you?"

"I never had any sisters, and my mother died when I was a schoolboy."

"You are to be pitied too, then."

"Oh I don't think so!" he replied, "I don't like obligations." The smile crept back into his eyes as he looked at her. "My family kicked me out more than twenty years ago, you know!"

"Yes, I know. Or rather that's what I've recently been told! Is that why you don't want to meet your nephew?"

"God, No! How would that concern him?"

"Well it was his father..."

"No, no, no... that's crap" he protested, "I won't let you turn me into an object of pity. I didn't like my brother, and I didn't like my father either - you can relate to that - but I don't hold any grudges for their shipping me off to Brazil. In fact it was the best thing they could have done, and it suited me down to the ground!"

"Sympathy certainly seems to be wasted on you!" a somewhat nettled Jen retorted.

"Yes, of course it is! Besides I like you, and I shan't if you start to pity me."

Jen was goaded into another swift response, "Well, that wouldn't bother me!"

"That's the ticket! He said appreciatively. "Tell me more about this Mattie of yours. You said her mother's dead, too?"

"Her mother was killed when she was thirteen."

His face was inscrutable, and although he kept his eyes on her, she had the impression he was actually looking at something a long way beyond her. Then with a sudden, wry smile he seemed to snap back into focus and asked abruptly, "Tom Johnson did marry her, didn't he? Emily Grace?"

"Why yes! Did you know her?"

He didn't answer Jen's question, but asked instead, "And my nephew is sniffing around her daughter?"

"I think it's a bit more serious than that. I haven't met your nephew, but apparently some women find him very attractive, and I think he's dazzled Mattie into thinking she's in love with him! You might not think that a seventeen year old girl's first love is very important, but here's the thing: Mattie is not only high spirited but downright stubborn. We had been very close in the past, and I hoped that she would let me guide her..."

"But she won't?" he asked sympathetically

"Not in this case. But until she came under your nephew's influence, she did! I love her to bits, but she can be headstrong and too impetuous." Jen paused to gather her thoughts, "there's no half measures with Mattie. She's passionate about everything. That's something that I love about her, but in this case it's disastrous!"

"Infatuated, is she? She'll probably get over it." He said, his voice tinged with boredom.

"Oh she will! My worry is that she may get over it too late! Mr Caldwell, if your nephew was the most eligible bachelor in all fifty states, I would be against Mattie marrying him. She's just too damn' young! As it is, I don't need to tell you that he is not eligible! His reputation is as bad as it could be, and I think he sees nothing but a rich wife in Mattie!"

"Oh, very likely," he agreed disinterestedly.

The coolness of his answer made Jen take a renewed grip on her temper. She said in a dry voice, "You may be able to be indifferent, but I'm not!"

"No, I don't suppose you can", he agreed amiably, "But why all the fuss and feathers? If this Rabb won't give his consent, then if my nephew isn't sincere, he'll soon vanish."

Jen looked doubtful, "Will he?"

"You don't think so?"

"I don't know... he might be hoping to persuade Harm... but I'm certain he won't succeed. But Mattie will be eighteen in just a few months... but if he can't wait, and I have reason to think that he's getting desperate, then Tijuana's not that far away, and if he can persuade Mattie to elope..." Jen broke off in indignant surprise as Miles Caldwell gave a great shout of laughter. "It's not funny!" she protested.

"Oh it is, it is! What a subject for a sitcom! History repeating itself with a vengeance!"

Completely bewildered, Jen demanded, "What do you mean?"

"Oh, Petty Officer Jennifer Coates," he gasped through his laughter, with a mixture of kindness and mockery in his tone, "there's one element that's been left out of your history lesson. The girl I tried to elope with all those years ago was Emily Grace - your Mattie's mother!"

It was a full minute before Jen could collect her wits enough to allow her to speak. "You ran away with Mattie's mother? How? When?"

"Oh, when she became engaged to Tom Johnson, of course" he replied in a casual tone.

"What... How... Did you _kidnap_ her?" Jen gasped.

"No... I don't remember ever having kidnapped anyone," he said thoughtfully, "In fact... I'm sure of it. An unwilling bride would very awkward, she'd only have to say 'I don't', you know."

"That's what I've always thought!" Jen exclaimed, diverted to find someone who shared her opinion, "I mean" she hastily added, "whenever Fran's going on about some dippy novel she's reading. Of course, in that context if the girl's an heiress, or something, it's understandable, but - oh!" Jen suddenly realised what she was saying, and embarrassed yet again, she managed, "Oh, I'm sorry! I don't know why I said that!"

"Think nothing of it!" he reassured her, "A perfectly natural conclusion!"

"Is that why you ran away with Mattie's mother?" she asked in disbelief.

"No... you must remember that back in the day, Emily's family weren't all that rich, and we were both very young. Youngsters rarely have an eye out for the main chance, and it was 'All for Love and the World Well Lost'," he added somewhat cynically. "We fell head over heels in love - or thought we did. You know, this is a damned boring story. Let's talk about something else!"

"I think it's sad," objected Jen. "But I don't understand why Emily got engaged to Tom Johnson, if she was in love with you."

"Don't you? You ought to! I wasn't good enough for Emily, and her family banned her from even speaking to me on the street, and virtually ordered her to accept Tom's proposal."

"Well, I can understand her following the ban, but, if Emily was in love with you, I can't understand why she'd obey an order to marry Tom. She must have had _some_ spirit, if she ran away with you!"

"Good God, no! She hadn't an ounce of spunk in her! She was romantic though, very young - she was still a Junior - and oh-so-persuadable. One of those pretty, clingy women who always give in to people with a stronger will! I was too young, or too stupid, to see it that way, until it came to the sticking point and she backed out in a flood of tears. Damn' good thing she did too!" he added, "We might have managed it, if she'd stood firm, and then we would have been really in the shi...er, in the soup. I didn't think that at the time, of course, but we had a lucky escape! How was she with Tom?"

He had stripped the affair of all romance, but Jen wondered whether his casual, no nonsense attitude was just camouflage for still-hurt feelings. She answered his casually put question, with a degree of reluctance, "I don't know, I never met Mattie until after her mother died. I told you that Mattie's father was an unfit parent, didn't I?" She looked up to see his nod of agreement, "Did I say it was because he's an alcoholic? No, I didn't think I had. For a long time Mattie blamed her father for causing Emily's death, through DUI. After her mom died, her dad disappeared from the scene. It seems that he went on an extended drinking bout - which lasted for months on end!" Jen added savagely. "Mattie was partly reconciled with her dad, after he went through rehab and when she found out that on the night of the crash, he'd been sober; but it was only when she found a stash of letters that her mom had written him that she finally forgave him. You see, her letters were so full of understanding, love and forgiveness."

"It sounds as if she and Tom were made for each other then! So, she forgave him for his drinking; an attitude not, I take it, shared by Mattie - nor perhaps by Jen Coates?" he asked, with an ironic edge to his voice.

"No!" she returned, "It was not shared by me, especially after..." guiltily, she allowed her voice to trail off.

"Go on." He encouraged her.

"No, I shouldn't, it's not really fair of me to judge him. I wasn't in his shoes!"

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment and then said gently, "But you are judging him, aren't you?"

"Well, yes... I am, but I shouldn't."

His direct, "What happened, Jennifer?" reminded her so much of Harm, that she couldn't resist the urge to confide in him.

"Mattie had an accident," she began, "a bad accident, her instructor crashed their 'plane, and Mattie was seriously injured. Her dad couldn't cope, and he fell off the wagon, big time, and ended up abandoning her for the second time!"

"And that's when the two of you met." He commented.

"Oh, no." Jen answered, "I'd been sharing an apartment with Mattie for a while before she went back to her dad, when Harm became her guardian the first time."

"Harm? Oh, yes, the guardian. But..." his face showed honest puzzlement.

Jen smiled, "It's complicated, it generally is where Mattie's concerned. But when Mattie's dad left her just lying in that hospital bed, and disappeared, Harm became her guardian again, and I... well, I suppose I kinda became her big sister again."

There was honest sympathy in his face and voice as he answered, "You know, you do have a right to judge, you _are_ in Tom's shoes. It seems that you aren't really her big sister, more like her mom. And it seems that you and Mattie have a great deal in common, you both lost your moms, and you were both abandoned by your dads."

Jen felt her anger rising again, "Don't you pity me! Don't you dare pity me!" Even as she said the words, she remembered saying almost exactly the same to Harm that Christmas Eve when they had first met nearly six years ago.

"No, I won't. You might not like me any more if I do." His matter-of-fact tone, was belied by the humour in his eyes, and she couldn't help but appreciate the manner in which he had turned the tables on her.

Jen gave an apologetic half-smile, and deliberately steering the conversation away from what was, for her, a sensitive topic, she asked, "But did Mattie's dad know about the elopement?"

"Oh, yes. We were gone overnight, you see, and in a small town like Blacksburg, there was no keeping that sort of secret. When Emily returned to her family, she and Tom were married off oh so very quickly just in case there might have been any unfortunate consequences of our overnighter. You see," he added, "a seven-month baby wouldn't have been at all respectable."

"Respectability!" Jen almost spat the word out, "Yes, that was my father's watchword too! How about your father, did he idolise at the same altar?"

"Yes, he did. I wasn't at all respectable, so as soon as he got the chance, he got rid of me, and I can't say that I blame him! I was not only a huge embarrassment to him, but I was also very expensive!"

"But your brother was just as unrespectable wasn't he?"

"No, no, Harry was his heir. He was just expensive, and his debts were debts of honour; quite unexceptional, especially when contracted in the finest gentlemen's clubs in Virginia... which mine... er... weren't!"

"No doubt he wouldn't have been embarrassed by his son's career...?"

"That ain't necessarily so; being more or less permanently in debt himself he'd probably have taken violent exception to it. However, he died before Stacy came of age, so we'll never know. Judging by my own experience, Stacy might have got himself into debt at Colombia, but he could hardly have broken the family bank then, unless of course he was already playing at the most expensive, and I might add - the most exclusive clubs. And from what you've said, that doesn't seem to be the case."

"Were you up at Colombia?" she asked curiously.

"No, I was _down_ from Colombia - _sent_ down!" he replied unconcernedly.

Jen choked, but after a brief struggle, managed, "What... whatever foolishness you did when you were young. You must have outgrown them, and... and I _can't_ believe that you would want your nephew, your only surviving relative, to try and retrieve his fortunes by seducing such a young girl into an elopement!"

"But if he's penniless, what else _can_ he do?" he asked.

Jen gritted her teeth, "For all I care he can do any damn' thing he likes - _except_ marry Mattie. You must see how wrong that would be!"

"Well, it seems dumb to me," he agreed, "He'd do much better to marry a girl who's got real money."

"Is that all you've got say?" Jen demanded.

"Well, what do you expect me to say?" he asked in a reasonable voice.

"Say!" Jen exploded, "I don't expect you to _say_ anything - I expect you to _do_ something!"

"Like what?"

"Like putting an end to this stupid affair!"

"How?"

"Speak to your nephew... tell him... oh, I don't know. You must be able to think of something!"

"Well, I can't. Anyway, why should I?"

"Because it's your duty! Because he's your nephew!"

"You'll have to come up with better reasons than that. I don't have any duty to Stacy, and I probably wouldn't do it if I did."

Jen, with her own life so bound up with the ideals of duty and service was totally unable to understand his point of view "Mr Caldwell, you _can't_ want your nephew to act so disgracefully."

"Want? I haven't got any feelings about this matter at all. In fact, I don't give a damn what he does. So if you're expecting me to take hand in this game, forget it!"

"You're impossible!" she cried, starting to her feet.

"I probably am, but I'm damned if I'll start preaching to my nephew just to help you out. A damn' fool I'd make of myself! I like the way your eyes sparkle when you're angry."

Jen's eyes absolutely flashed at his last comment. She threw one last furious look at him, before jamming her cover onto her head and turning on her heel, she stalked out of the hotel.

She had forgotten the Neumanns; she had almost forgotten about Mattie, it wasn't until she saw a yellow school bus, that she remembered that she needed to collect the teenager from school. Looking at her watch, she was relieved to see that it was still only half-past two. She had become so absorbed in the conversation with Miles Caldwell that she had lost all track of time.

Fortunately she did not need to make much of a detour to reach the school, where she had time to wait and cool off before the students were released from their classes. At first as she sat, she drummed her fingers irritably against the steering wheel, but as the first flush of anger faded, Jen, incurably self-analytical, realised that she felt a strange, unwilling attraction to the infuriating Miles Caldwell. His own words had convicted him of being totally unworthy of any sort of respect, but when she remembered what he had said to her, she felt the laughter rising. A few more moments' thought however, brought a fresh flush to her cheeks; she must be out her mind, she decided, to have felt the slightest amusement at the way he had recounted his past misdoings. She had known that he had been expelled from VMI; he had told her in the most carefree way possible that he had been sent down from Colombia, and that he had run away with a high-school girl. Strangely, she was less shocked by that escapade than she had thought she ought to be. At the time he couldn't have been very much older than Emily, and they had thought themselves desperately in love. It was very bad, of course, but what was worse, was his unblushing recital of his wrong-doings. He hadn't been boasting of them, but had recounted them as though had been ordinary, everyday occurrences - which he regarded with ribald amusement, she thought, once again having to stifle a smile.

When she remembered his point-blank refusal to intervene between his nephew and Mattie, however, she lost all inclination to humour; it was unforgiveable. He claimed no affection for Stacy, and although he certainly wasn't in still love with the memory of Emily, it was, she thought, reasonable to expect that enough of his sentiments remained to make him take some interest in her daughter.

Recalling, word for word and look for look, the closing stages of her argument with him, Jen felt an upsurge of contempt and anger, and she sat waiting for Mattie in an acutely uncomfortable state of mind, not sure whether she most despised Miles Caldwell for his cynicism and selfishness, or herself for finding him so amusingly distracting. "No more than a stupid dumb-ass!" she criticised herself out loud, much to Mattie's surprise, as she opened the Escort's passenger door.

For once, her habit of maintaining strict silence while driving served a second purpose. By the time they pulled into a parking space at the Medical Centre - Mattie hadn't needed to remind Jen of her disabled badge on this occasion - Jen had recovered her aplomb. In response to Mattie's "Who's a dumb-ass?" Jen had sufficiently recovered to answer, "I am, Mattie! I forgot to do something at work and Mac's gonna chew my head off on Monday!"

Mattie was satisfied with this simple explanation and satisfied herself with an affectionate "Stoopid!"

Jen inwardly excused her lie by reflecting that trying to explain her conflicted feelings to Mattie was far beyond her present capabilities, and anyway Mattie didn't yet need to know of the existence of Miles Caldwell.

Having helped Mattie out of the Escort, Jen asked her, "Chair or sticks?"

Mattie pretended to think for a few moments, but Jen detecting from the look of mischief in her eyes that a decision had already been made, pre-empted the intended joke by pretending to decide for her, "Wheelchair!"

Mattie, in turn, pretended outrage, "Jen! I'm old enough to make up my own mind! Sticks!"

"OK, OK," laughed Jen, "sticks it is - but mind you keep up with me." And giggling at their own nonsense, the pair made their way along the path towards the doors, Jen again running the gauntlet of a procession of commissioned doctors, nurses and visitors. I really must remember to change out of uniform next time, she told herself. Once inside the cool of the building, Jen thankfully removed her cover, and led Mattie along the fast becoming familiar route to ICU.

At the ICU nurses' station however, they were told that they couldn't for the moment go and visit with Fran. The young Lieutenant jg explaining that only two visitors at a time were allowed; and that Fran already had visitors. Glancing through the observation pane, Jen saw that by Fran's bedside was a middle-aged couple. The angle at which they were sitting made it impossible to see the male's face, but the plump, blonde woman looked so like Fran that it was immediately apparent that she was the Petty Officer's mother. Confirming with the nurse that the couple were Fran's parents, Jen asked if they could be told of her arrival. The nurse obligingly entered Fran's room and bending over her mother spoke, and looked back at the waiting Jen and Mattie. Fran's mother, following the direction of the nurse's gaze, nodded and got to her feet. Leaving the room, she crossed to where Jen and Mattie were standing, with quick short, energy filled steps that were an exact match for Fran's normal style of waking. Reaching the two young women, she held out her hand, with a worried smile crossing her somewhat tired, careworn face said, "Hello, the nurse said you are Jennifer? Then you," she added "must be Mattie?"

Without waiting for confirmation of her identification, she somehow, Jen was never quite sure how she'd done it, manoeuvred the two of them to the waiting area, and onto the padded bench running around the walls. "I am so glad to meet you both," she continued, "such very good friends you both are of my Francine. She has told us so much about you both!"

Jen was fascinated by her voice. There was genuine warmth and pleasure in it, but what was intriguing was the sound of it. Fran's mother didn't exactly have a strange accent, but there was something slightly odd in the emphasis on certain words, or maybe thought Jen, a slight mispronunciation of some sounds, or a dislocation in the word order that gave a faint indication that English was the speaker's second language, and not her own native tongue.

"It is the end of the week for you both is not it? You I can see, have come straight from work, and you, straight from school? My Francine is very lucky to have such friends!"

Jen, uneasily aware that she hadn't perhaps been as conscientiously attentive to Fran as she might have, coloured uncomfortably under the weight of undeserved praise, muttering that it had been no trouble at all. Mattie claimed that she would have loved to have spent longer with Fran, but certain people - with a mutinous look at Jen - had been over-protective, and hadn't even told her that Fran was sick until well after the event.

Not wanting to re-start an argument that she'd hoped was over and done with, Jen refrained from commenting on Mattie's complaint, contented herself by threatening to muss Mattie's hair, and instead turning towards Fran's mother inquired, "Mrs Neumann, how is Fran today?"

"Oh, Jennifer, you must call me Mutti! When people say Mrs Neumann, I look over my shoulder for my mother-in-law; a terrible woman - she frightens me to death! Oh," she continued, the smile fading from her face, "perhaps at this time and in this place I should not say such things! But Francine," she said, brightening again, "is doing much better; already we have seen from this morning an improvement. I hope soon that we will be able to take home with us our little girl! But come! You have come to see your friend, and not to gossip with an old woman. I will call out Heinrich, he too will be glad to meet with you, and then you can go in and sit with our girl"

Heinrich Neumann, or "Poppy" as he introduced himself, was extremely thin and extremely tall, at least six-three thought Jen, feeling quite dwarfed. Jen thought, perhaps uncharitably, that if Fran got her looks and her blonde hair from her mother, then her tall, slim figure surely came from her father. Poppy Neumann was much less talkative than his spouse, contenting himself with a brief introduction, and a few words of welcome and thanks, then sitting quietly with an indulgent half-smile on his face while his wife chatted on about Fran and all her childhood ailments, the logical outcome of which was her current condition.

Desperate not appear discourteous, but uneasily aware of the passage of time, Jen eventually managed to turn the subject. While her most important intention in coming to the hospital, she told the Neumanns, was to visit Fran, she had also been charged with making contact with Mr and Mrs Neumann. Her Commanding Officer, she explained, Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie-Rabb, was most anxious to meet with Fran's parents, and would be happy either to come to them, wherever they wished, or would gladly send a car for them that they might come to her at the Naval station. To that end, Jen explained she had been looking for them earlier at the hotel, and had left them a note, explaining the Colonel's intentions, together with a list of telephone numbers so that the Neumanns could call over the weekend, and not have to wait until Monday before speaking to their daughter's CO.

Recalled by Jen's words to the reasons for her visit, the Neumanns - well, Mutti Neumann - apologised volubly and told Jen and Mattie to go, go visit Francine, and was still encouraging them, over her shoulder, to do so as Poppy Neumann led her away in the direction of the vending machines.

Fran's bed had been cranked up so that she was no longer lying prone, but was propped up in a semi-sitting position. The intimidating array of monitors clustered around the head of the bed still blinked and bleeped, and the drip-feed was still taped into the vein in her arm. Despite all, however, it was evident that Fran had made something of a recovery. There was more colour, and less greyness in her face, she - or more likely Mutti, thought Jen - had brushed her hair, and the oxygen mask was not longer taped to her face, but rested on her upper chest, ready to be applied if needed. But perhaps the greatest indication of her recovery was that her visitors no longer needed to be clad in gowns and masks.

Fran's eyes were closed and she was breathing lightly as Jen and Mattie took the chairs ranged alongside her bed. Thinking that Fran may have drifted off to sleep again, Mattie look disappointedly at Jen, who just smiled, and addressing the patient said in conversational tone, "Hey slacker, open those eyes. It's safe - your parents have gone to get coffee!"

Fran cautiously opened one eye half-way, as if suspecting that Jen may have been playing a trick on her. "Hey, Jen, hey Mattie, good to see you. How're you doing? Sorry," she coughed a couple of times and winced, and then continued "that was supposed to sound like Joey! I guess it could do with some more work, huh?"

"Sure could," said Mattie, an anxious look appearing on her face at the sight of Fran's discomfort, "Are you in pain, should we get the nurse?"

"No, no, don't bother, they've got me maxed out on pain meds as it is," grinned Fran with an effort. She lay silent for a couple of moment and then said, "Anyway, it only hurts when I breathe. No stoopid, don't worry, that was a joke." The last part of her remark was addressed to Mattie, who had grabbed her sticks and had half-risen from her seat.

Jen looked at her room-mate, "Fran, you have no idea how much better you look than you did a couple of days ago. Hell, girl, you scared the crap out of me!"

"Scared the crap out of myself too!" was the half-amused response.

"But, seriously, how are you feeling?"

"Weak, tired, pissed-off." She nodded at one of the monitors. "They've given me my own TV, but it's a crap channel, and they can't find the remote."

"Clown!" grinned Jen, "Anyway, what do you want with a TV when your folks are here?"

"Jen... don't... please!" The plea was only half in jest. "I love my folks, so much, and it's great to see them; but not quite so much of them! Pop's fine, but mom's killing me. She keeps wanting to drag me back to Wisconsin. She's got the idea that now I'm sick, I'm out of the navy. I've tried explaining to her, but she can't get her head around it, that I want to stay in. Anyway, I'll freeze my ass off up in all that snow, and that can't be good for me, now can it?"

Jen thought for a moment. She had never had the chance to try wresting independence from her mother, so she was unable to fully enter into Fran's thoughts and feelings; slowly, feeling her way through her thoughts she said, "Fran... I can't know what you're going through with your mom, and I can't know what your mom feels. Maybe right now, she doesn't want to hear about you not going back home, but I think you should - for a short time. Listen, girl, when you get out of hospital, you're still not going to be fit for even limited duty for a couple of weeks at least, so you'll be at home anyway. I'll have to work, so there won't be anyone there to help you. It might be good to go back to Milwaukee for a week or so."

Fran eyed her friend with marked disfavour, but knew that Jen was right. The navy couldn't keep her in hospital for the length of time it would take for a full recovery, so she would be home alone for some stretch of time. And, feeling a sudden well-spring of fear, she wondered what might happen to her if, with no-one to watch over her, she suffered a recurrence of the pneumonia. For the moment though, the most she would grudgingly concede was a muttered, "Well, maybe. We'll see."

Jen looked at her watch and remarking that the nurse had only allowed them ten minutes asked Fran if she needed or wanted anything from home. Fran immediately asked Jen to bring in a few of her books. She'd been getting bored just lying in bed, she said dryly, and she might manage a page or two between visitors, if the nurses would leave her alone. Relieved that Fran's customary good temper was reasserting itself, Jen promised to bring the books with her when she visited tomorrow.

As the two of them stood to leave, Fran managed one more comment, "Hey, Mattie, I like what you've done with your hair!" As Mattie had done nothing other than brush it and pin it back in her usual manner, the joke made all three smile, especially when they remembered, almost simultaneously that Fran had said the same thing yesterday.

Jen had noticed that Mattie had been unusually quiet during the visit, and after they had made their farewells to the Neumanns, and were making their way back towards the hospital main doors, in a carefully non-committal tone, asked the younger girl what she had thought of Fran's parents. Mattie had flashed a quick half-grin in response to Jen's question, and then said, "Mutti's a funny one, isn't she, Jen? I like, her, but she sure talks a lot!"

A smiling Jen was forced to agree, but she had expected a bit more of a critique from Mattie, and indeed a bit more of a contribution to the conversation with Fran. Mattie's continued silence made Jen a bit uneasy; however, while Jen had been in Mattie's company, she had neither made nor received any calls on her cell 'phone. Jen guessed that Mattie was fretting over the silence from Stacy Caldwell, and decided to leave well enough alone, in the hope that her young friend's crush would fade and die. Her thoughts were interrupted by Mattie's, "Jen?"

"Huh?"

"Just to remind you, before we go home, we need to get me a shower stool."

"Yeah, I nearly forgot. Where do you suggest?"

"We don't want to spend too much money," said Mattie, painfully aware that thanks to last week's shopping trip and until she received her next month's allowance from Harm, that she was very nearly penniless, and that the cost of the shower stool would inevitably fall on Jen.

"OK, where do you recommend?"

"Well, there's a Walmart on College Avenue, near Harm's place, but if we go there, we might as well go on to Pacific Avenue, and get the shower stool from home."

"Yeah, we could that, if you're OK with it, and it might be a chance to tell Mac about meeting the Neumanns."

Mattie, paused, "Jen, if you don't mind, I really don't want to see Mac today."

Jen was seriously concerned, "Mattie, have you and the Colonel had another fight?"

"No, but that's why I don't want to see her..." Mattie grimaced, "It's kinda difficult to explain. We're fine when we don't see each other, we can talk on the 'phone and all, but as soon as we get indoors together, it's like she changes into this Major Mom thing. It's like being in Marine Boot Camp!"

Jen smiled to herself, she had suffered through Navy Boot Camp, and scuttlebutt had it that Marine Boot Camp was a much tougher proposition, so she was sure that what Mattie and the Colonel were experiencing was only the normal head-butting dynamic that teenagers and their families went through as childhood was left behind and young adulthood loomed in the near future.

"Alright then." She grinned and paused "...Marine. Walmart it is."

Mattie gave Jen a look that combined suspicion, assumed offence, amusement and tolerance, and slid into the passenger seat, "Aye, aye Petty Officer!"

With both occupants chuckling, the Ford edged out on to Bob Wilson Drive, and then east towards Lemon Grove.

On the journey back to Ocean Beach, Jen mock-grumbled to Mattie that the drive to and from Walmart was lasting a damn' sight longer than the shopping had taken. It was true; they had been lucky, for a Friday afternoon there weren't that many people in the huge store, bathroom fittings and furniture had been easy to find and Jen and Mattie were in and out in less than fifteen minutes.

On their arrival at Cape May Avenue, Mattie climbed out of the car to hold open the building door, while Jen, her arms wrapped around the boxed bath-stool, manoeuvred her way to the elevator, again having to wait while Mattie attended to activating the doors and pressing the button for the third floor.

Having unpacked the bath-stool, Jen placed it next to the shower stall ready for when Mattie next needed it, and retired to her bedroom to strip off her uniform and replace it with shirt and a brightly coloured ankle-length skirt. On her return to the lounge area, she found Mattie busily scanning menus from half-a-dozen local eateries that made home deliveries. Jen, only too well aware of the parlous state of the domestic exchequer, was reluctant to place any further, comparatively expensive restaurant meals on her Credit Card. She hadn't budgeted this month for the extra expenses she was incurring, not that she begrudged feeding Mattie, and certainly didn't begrudge visiting Fran, but the extra miles she was driving were fuelled by gas for which she had to pay up-front. Which reminded her that on Monday, she needed to speak to Lieutenant Simms about reimbursement - oh, she remembered, the scuttlebutt was that there was no more Lieutenant Simms. Well, she grinned wryly, now that she needed an administrative officer's signature on her application for reimbursement that loss was a mixed blessing!

Nevertheless, coming back to the present, she needed to dissuade Mattie from anticipating a menu consisting solely of take-outs from Ocean Beach restaurants. "Mattie, honey, I figured I'd cook for us tonight."

Mattie having had prior experience of Jen's sometimes less than stellar culinary creations, looked at her warily. "What do you have in mind, Jen?"

"How about I cook us some pasta? There's a bottle of carbonara sauce in the cupboard, and a chicken breast and some salad stuff in the 'fridge, and we can heat up some garlic bread to go with it. You know you can't have pasta without garlic bread."

Mattie placed the proposed menu under mental review, carefully considering if there were any pitfalls into which Jen might stumble. Mattie came to the conclusion that if she oversaw the preparation of the sauce, Jen could just about be trusted to boil the water for the pasta. She smiled inwardly remembering the occasion when she had asked Harm to teach her to cook. The question of how to boil water had arisen in that discussion too. One thought led to another and she suddenly found herself wishing that Harm would come home. Still if wishes were horses beggars would ride, said the old proverb. "OK, Jen, you sort out the pasta, and salad, I'll deal with the sauce and the garlic bread!"

Fully understanding Mattie's reasoning, Jen was still forced to chuckle, "O ye of little faith!"

Mattie looked at Jen an expression of total bafflement on her face, "You what?"

Jen smiled at the expression on Mattie's face, "O ye of little faith," she repeated, "Luke, 12:28. No? It's from the Bible, it means..."

Mattie interrupted, "I guess, after all you're still 'the daughter of the preacher-man' - huh?" Mattie was so pleased with herself at being to send a misquotation back at Jen, that she missed seeing the shock in her eyes.

At Mattie's words coming on top of her conversation with Miles Caldwell, and the old emotions that particular segment of the conversation had stirred, Jen felt a cold shock run through her. Intense as it was it had only been a fleeting sensation, and shaking it off, she quickly mastered herself and grinned at Mattie, "And what was all that about?"

Mattie giggled in triumph, "Dusty Springfield, 1968 album, a track called 'Son of the Preacherman'."

"Huh, never heard of it. Anyway, are you going to get going on that sauce? I've managed to get the water boiling, without burning it!"

Jen managed resolutely to put the incident behind her, and the pair, between them prepared a meal that they, after having eaten, were able to agree hadn't been a total disaster.

Washing and drying the dishes took a very few minutes which passed the all quicker for the joking and gentle ribbing between them, which may have continued longer, had not the ringing tone of Mattie's cell' phone called a halt. Mattie checked the caller ID and said,

"It's Julia Weaver, a girl from school!" and in response to Jen's lifted eyebrow, insisted "honest, it is!"

Julia Weaver, it might have been, but it was evident from Mattie's excited comments and her rapid retreat to her temporary bedroom, that the subject of at least part of the conversation was Stacy Caldwell.

It was about fifteen minutes later that a glowing Mattie returned to the lounge, where Fran had been trying, to salvage the damp ruin of Fran's novel, by the simple expedient of placing it open on the window ledge in the hope that the sun might dry it double page by double page. A rueful Jen had decided that the book was past all hope, and resigned herself to tracking down its replacement.

Mattie's return to the lounge gave Jen a legitimate pretext to abandon the useless book rescue, and scrunching up along the couch she patted the seat next to her, and said, "Well?"

Mattie, with a slightly wary look on her face, took the indicated seat, and said, "Honestly, Jen, it was Julia!"

"Hey, booful, if you say it was Julia, it was Julia. I _know_ you wouldn't lie to me." I hope, she thought with a twinge of conscience, that Mattie's more honest than I am. "C'mere," and snaking out her arm, she captured the teenager and dragged her close.

Mattie accepted the hug, and as she rested her head against Jen's shoulder, and allowed Jen's stroking her head, she said, "Jen, one of the conditions Mac laid down on me coming here was that I wasn't to call or take calls, from Stacy. I said I wouldn't, and I haven't and I won't."

"I know that too, honey."

"But she never said I couldn't e-mail him. Do you think that it would be alright if I did?."

Jen closed her eyes and sighed, but was careful to keep up with soothing rhythm of her hand. "H'mm that one, booful, is really one you should ask the ethical standards committee. But here's the thing: If Mac had remembered about e-mails when she was making the conditions, do you think she would have asked you not to e-mail him?"

"I guess."

"So, would you say that in the spirit, in the intent of her conditions, not just the letter of them, that she would expect you not to e-mail him, just because she accidentally left a loop-hole?"

"Well... don't trial arguments have to stick to the letter of the law, and not the intent?"

"You, young lady, have been spending way too much time around lawyers." Jen protested, "Yeah, they do, until a judge makes a new ruling, and..." Jen's voice took on a light degree of teasing, "since you asked me to be the judge, I am making the ruling that you shouldn't e-mail your Stacey."

"Hey, not fair!" protested Mattie.

"I never saw anywhere that life comes with a guarantee of fairness. It's not even in the Constitution! What's brought all this legalistic stuff on anyway?"

"Julia's mom and dad are having a party tomorrow night, and Stacy's going to be there. Julia has invited me, and I'd really like to go."

Jen was silent. How much more of a breaking of Mac's conditions would this be, than just allowing Mattie to e-mail this damn' Stacey Caldwell. Bracing herself for the inevitable storm, she sighed and said, "I'm sorry, hon. That's a definite no-go; Mac would keel-haul me."

The storm broke with much less violence than Jen had dreaded. Mattie, disengaged herself from Jen's hug, levered herself to her feet, and with tears streaming down an ashen face, turned to look at Jen and hissed, "I hate you!" and wobbled her way to her room, where she slammed the door behind her.

Jen sat silently for a while staring into space and feeling like a traitor. Sighing she rose and sombrely straightened the lounge area, vaguely aware of the sound of teenage tears emanating from Mattie's room, and after her evening shower went to bed in a mood of unusual depression, and spent a great part of the night chewing over a problem which seemed to grow more and more difficult with each passing minute.

It seemed that Jen was doomed to have another sleepless night; it felt as if she had barely closed her eyes when she was woken by a woebegone voice, quietly calling her name. Forcing her eyes open she fumbled for the switch on her bedside lamp; propping herself up on one elbow and blinking in the sudden light, she saw a tear-stained Mattie, dressed in her favourite nightwear of T-Shirt and Boxer-shorts, leaning against her bedroom door frame and staring beseechingly at her. "Mattie? Wha's wrong?" she mumbled.

"Oh, Jen," Mattie sobbed, "I'm sorry... I didn't mean it... I don't hate you!"

Jen felt a renewed flush of affection towards the miserable teenager, "Oh, honey," she said, "Come here!" She squirmed over to make room for Mattie, and tossed back the bed-covers in mute invitation. With a stifled sob Mattie lurched across the room and fell into Jen's bed, sobbing "Oh Jen, please don't hate me!"

Holding the crying girl against her shoulder, Jen turned out the light, and repeating over and over, "Hush, baby, hush, don't cry, I don't hate you, hush now, everything's alright, I'm here now," until the emotionally exhausted teenager finally fell asleep in her arms. Jen uncomfortably aware of the wet patch on her shoulder and of Mattie's weight on her arm lay unmoving until sheer fatigue forced her eyes shut.


	8. 06 October 2007

**Saturday 06 October 2007**

She awoke later than usual and not very much refreshed, but she eased her now numb left arm from beneath Mattie and slipped out of bed leaving the younger girl asleep. Making her way to the bathroom, she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, thinking to herself that she looked like hell. Realising that it was not just fatigue that made her feel like crap, Jen pondered for a few moments and then realised that Mattie's "I hate you!" had hurt more than she realised. Thankfully, today was Saturday, and not a duty day, so she didn't have to worry about dealing with other people while she processed last night's emotions. For a few minutes she debated whether or not to take her routine run. The idea of skipping it for once was hugely tempting, and she _was_ tired; but her habits of self-discipline were more than equal to the task of resisting temptation, so tip-toeing back into the bedroom she collected her running kit, and then dropping her pyjamas into the bathroom laundry bag, she collected keys, whistle and pepper-spray and set out for her morning five miles. At first, as she did no more than jog alongside the cycle path, she fretted over the seemingly impossible Mattie and Caldwell situation until it occurred to her that Alice Graham was a sensible woman, who not only seemed fond of Mattie, but was herself the mother of a pretty daughter, and might have some better ideas how to handle an infatuated teenager than would a substitute big sister. At any rate, Jen thought, it couldn't hurt to ask her advice, and more importantly, Jen was sure that whatever secrets she might pass on to Mrs Graham would remain secrets.

A few minutes after reaching her decision Jen found that she had unconsciously increased her speed and was now running freely and with a sense of having a weight lifted off her shoulders. A result of her exercise was that her return to Cape May Avenue was quicker than it had ever been before and that she was breathing much more deeply than usual. Although pleased with her improved performance, Jen had the sneaking suspicion that she might pay for it later, but for the moment was content to stand at the bottom of the steps and with her hands on her knees, regain control over her breathing while her heart rate steadied. While she rested and recovered, the door to the apartment house opened and Tony and Sally Cameron walked down the steps together. Both were casually dressed, but Jen was surprised to see that Sally was wearing a jacket. Sure it was coming on to early fall, but Jen was still quite comfortable in her short-sleeved summer blouses.

Tony Cameron stopped and said, "Jen, Good morning. How's your friend Fran? On the road to recovery, I trust?"

Although Jen straightened up to return the greeting, she was reluctant to discuss Fran's health with strangers, but, she reflected, Tony had helped at a time when Tim didn't know what to do and Jen had felt control slipping away from her. She felt obliged, under those circumstances to inform him, he was after all, she reasoned, a doctor, that Fran's pneumonia had turned into something a bit more serious; she struggled to remember the acronym the ICU doctor had used, but unable to do so had to resort to "Some kind of respiratory distress syndrome. Seems like her lungs were filling up with fluid," and catching the look of concern that crossed his face added, "She's doing better now. They reckon they caught it in time. She's in ICU now, but she's kinda sitting up and they're letting her have visitors without them having to wear masks and gowns."

"Do you think they'd let me visit?" he asked, "I'd like the chance to see how she's getting along; I think I did a pretty good snap diagnosis for a surgeon! Here's the thing: most of my patients are unconscious when I get 'em, it's kinda nice to see one who isn't!"

Jen wasn't quite sure if Tony was kidding around or not, so she decided to take his words at face value. "I don't see why not, after all you were the first doctor to see her."

"Uh-huh. Well, I'll give 'em a call and see what they say! But, what about you, how are you doing Jen? Sally tells me you're all alone up there. Come and visit with us if you get lonely. I can never say for sure when or if we'll be at home. We both live kinda squirly lives, but if either of us are there we'll probably be able to offer you a sandwich and a coffee - or a beer, depending on the time of day."

His words reminded Jen of how she had failed to take up Sally's very similarly worded invitation, and with a guilty conscience, glanced across at the patiently waiting Sally, who acknowledged her situation with a lazy smile.

"You... you're both very kind," Jen faltered, "and I don't want to be rude, well no more rude than I have been already - I'm sorry for that, honestly - but I'm OK now. I've got a young friend staying to keep me company, so we're fine now, but thank you, anyway."

"That's not a problem, Jen," replied Sally. "Look, formal invitation time: Why don't the two of you come to dinner tomorrow evening? Say, seven for seven-thirty, and no excuses. It won't be a huge formal thing, jeans and T's are good. It'll be fine, and I'll enjoy seeing Tony outnumbered for a change, instead of it always being me on my lonesome, surrounded by his Poker-buddies!"

The warmth and genuine nature of the invitation were difficult to resist and she found it impossible to refuse them without risking giving offence, and since refusal would be so awkward, Jen with a feeling of surrendering to the inevitable, replied with a smile, "Well, in that case, thank you both very much, we'll be there, nineteen-hundred for nineteen-thirty."

Doctor and detective heard her automatic use of the twenty-four hour clock with a smile, and the matter settled to their satisfaction, made their farewells and headed for their cars parked at the kerbside.

Jen watched them go, and found herself wondering why this couple, both of them a few years older than she, were taking an interest in her. Then as Sally got climbed into her car, her jacket rode up and Jen saw the bottom of a pistol holster on her belt. Well, at least, she thought, that's one mystery solved.

Her breathing back to normal, Jen became aware of the sweat now cooling on her skin, and with a shiver, bounded up the steps and once inside took the elevator to the third floor.

Turning the handle of her apartment door Jen was greeted by the sight of a subdued Mattie sitting bolt upright in one the lounge chairs, and with a somewhat shamefaced expression on her face. As Jen entered, her eyebrow raised in silent interrogation, Mattie stood, and with an almost audible gulp said, "Jen, please don't say anything. I need to say this. I behaved very badly last night. You didn't deserve what I said. You've always had my back, always looked out for me, I know. I let myself down, I let Mac down, and worst, I let you down. I was a brat, and I hurt you. Jen, I don't hate you, I could never hate you. But if you hate me now, then I guess it's OK; I deserve it. I've packed my bags, and if you want to send me back to Mac, then that's OK too, and I'm ready to go whenever you want me to." Her apology over, Mattie stood still, just swaying a little on her weakened legs.

Jen was both deeply touched and appalled. Touched that the fiercely independent teenager could make such an obviously sincere and difficult apology and appalled that the girl who had won so much of her heart could ever think that Jen could hate her. Her own hurt dissipated on the instant and she crossed the room to fold Mattie in her arms, saying "Oh honey, I don't hate you, I never will. We had a stupid fight. I'm sorry I hurt you. You're sorry you hurt me. So we're quits, OK?" She stood back still holding Mattie at arms' length and looking her straight in the eyes, gave her a little shake and repeated "OK?"

At about the same time, across town in the house on Pacific Avenue, Sarah MacKenzie-Rabb sleepily opened her eyes. She lay still in bed for a while until she felt her eyelids beginning to droop again, and then with a deep sigh, forced herself to sit up and swing her legs out of bed. Sitting now on the edge of the bed, she fumbled her feet into her slippers. She was feeling unusually lethargic. She told herself that she couldn't be tired. She had gone to bed the previous night before ten o'clock and now it wasn't far short of eight o'clock in the morning. She realised with a shock, that she didn't know what time it was; she had always known what time it was, down to the last minute. She didn't know how she knew; it was just something that she'd always had. That she no longer seemed to have it was more disturbing that the unusual feelings of lethargy; yes, and even apathy that rolled over her. She stayed, sat on the edge of the bed while she tried to figure out if getting dressed was worth the effort. Oh what the hell, she thought, Mattie's away, Harm's away, I don't need to do any shopping, I'll just stay...Oh, God, no! Not again! Her hand clasped tightly over her mouth, Mac made a dash for the bathroom. Five minutes later, disgustedly looking at the mess on her pyjama jacket, Mac stripped off, letting her pyjamas fall to the floor, and turned towards the shower. Her shower finished and feeling a little better now that she was clean and refreshed, Mac filled the washbasin with cold water and dropped the soiled pyjamas into it. Wrapped in a towel, Mac headed back for the bedroom. Standing at her closet, she pondered her predicament; she hadn't eaten at all yesterday, so whatever it was she'd got it wasn't just a stomach bug. Therefore, although she didn't seem to have an elevated temperature, she must be sick. If she was sick, then she belonged in bed. If she was going back to bed, then the logical choice of what to wear was pyjamas. Taking a ridiculous pleasure from her thought process, she selected a clean pair from the closet shelf. Mac pulled them on and returned to bed and pulling the quilt up over her shoulders, she lay wondering what was wrong with her, until her eyes shut, and she drifted off back to sleep.

Jen helped the still subdued Mattie to unpack her bags and cajoled her into brewing a pot of coffee, while she showered and dressed. Stripped of her sweat-soaked T-shirt and shorts and wearing her bathrobe, Jen on her way to the bathroom, was struck by a happy thought, "Hey, Mattie," she called, "You know those pancakes we didn't have time for yesterday? Well, we've got time this morning!"

Mattie returned a somewhat forced smile, and taking eggs and milk from the 'fridge and a bag of flour from the kitchen stores cupboard, she busied herself with mixing the batter. Jen watched for a minute or two, and then with a slight feeling of unease, closed the bathroom door behind her, and turned on the shower. Torn between her desire to take a really long shower and the need to return to Mattie before the pancakes turned cold, Jen made time to reflect on the teenager's behaviour. Mattie had always been capable of mercurial changes of mood, and while she could be down the dumps one minute and up in the air the next, under normal circumstances she was happy-go-lucky; her extreme moods were usually of short duration, but Jen was aware that she could, once angered, hold a grudge for a very long time - look at the way Mattie had hated her father for over a year.

Breakfast was an awkward affair, with long silences broken by simple requests to "Please pass the syrup," and by Jen's comment of "Hey, these pancakes are really good!" was met by the unenthusiastic and monosyllabic response of "thanks." Throughout the uncomfortable meal, Mattie kept her head down, refusing to meet Jen's eyes.

At the end of the meal Mattie gathered the dishes together, but was stopped by Jen's "No, that's not fair. You cooked, so I get to do the washing up."

"Oh, it's alright Jen," muttered Mattie, with still averted face, "It'll only take a minute."

Jen considered her options for a moment, and then deciding on taking a risk, she adopted the deliberately severe tone she thought of as her 'command voice', which she usually reserved for delinquent seamen. "Mattie!"

The sharpness in her voice startled Mattie into meeting her gaze. Wary blue eyes looked into stern brown ones. "Last night," continued a still-sternly spoken Jen "We talked about certain conditions Mac laid on you for your visit with me. Didn't you tell me at the outset that one of those conditions was that you were to do as I told you?"

Mattie had on many previous occasions managed to make Jen mad at her, but she had never before heard such a note in Jen's voice and was startled into an uncharacteristic response, "Yes, ma'am."

Jen was almost as startled as Mattie at her formal reply, but managed to continue, "And you intend to abide those conditions, right?"

"Yes..."

"Good. Then when I say leave the dishes to me, what are you going to do?"

"Er... leave the dishes to you, Jen?"

"Exactly. So," Jen said, resuming her normal; conversational tone. "Go and sit down and read a book, or play on the damn' computer, and leave the damn' dishes to me so out of my way, please! Go on, get!"

Mattie's grin was a mixture of embarrassment and relief at being chewed out (however mildly). She lurched across to the lounge area. Jen watched her progress with a slightly troubled look on her face. It was obvious that despite tears, apologies and forgiveness that the rift between them would take a little time to heal. It may, she reflected, be forgiven, but it would take time to be forgotten.

But as Jen watched Mattie's wavering progress, it suddenly struck her that Mattie seemed more confident of her ability to walk without using her sticks, and that she did seem steadier on her legs than she had even just a couple of days ago.

"Mattie," she said slowly, "turn around, and walk back towards me, please."

Mattie, with a suspicious glower on her face did as she was asked, but as she neared Jen, she asked warily, "What?" and was surprised when Jen scooped her up into a hug.

"What?" she repeated, squirming to be set free.

Jen let her go. "Mattie, do you know what you just did?"

"Nooo." The answer was still wary.

"Mattie, you just walked from the kitchen clear across the lounge, without your sticks and without holding on to the furniture!"

Mattie looked stunned, "I did?" and then as she realised what she had she repeated triumphantly "I did!"

The breakfast dishes temporarily forgotten the two grinned delightedly at each other for a few seconds before Mattie exclaimed. "I did it! I walked!"

"Hold hard, there" Jen responded, her delight evident in her voice, "Yes, great! But there's still a fair piece to go before you start planning any marathons!"

"Oh, I know, I now! But I can't wait to tell my therapist!"

Jen stood still, and then asked in a small voice, "Mattie, did we miss an appointment this week?"

"No I don't got one 'til Friday aftern... oh."

"Yes, 'oh', Friday afternoon was yesterday! Oh crap! Mac'll kill me for this. And there was me spouting off about you obeying orders!"

"Hey, it wasn't all your fault Jen. I should have remembered too, and there was all that worry about Fran, and finding her mom and dad, and stuff."

Yes, Jen thought and there was the little matter of me letting myself get distracted by Mr Miles Caldwell. My having to run around chasing after Fran's mom and dad might be an excuse, if Mac'll accept it. And even if she does accept the Neumanns as an excuse there's still Miles Caldwell... sheesh!

Her train of thought was interrupted by Mattie's troubled, "Jen?"

"H'mm? Oh, hey, don't sweat it Mattie. Mac might be a little mad at me. But she's been mad at me before and I've survived. Yeah, hey! Did I tell you about what happened yesterday? Well...", she put her arm around Mattie's shoulder and steered them back towards the couch, where with feet tucked under her, and Mattie's head against her shoulder, Jen started to tell Mattie all about the White Rabbit

Jen's stretched the out tale for maximum dramatic and comedic effect, and was repaid by Mattie's gasps and giggles. But at the end of it, Mattie turned to Jen and asked in awe "'Oh my paws and whiskers!' You didn't really say that out loud, did you Jen?"

"Sure did!" Jen admitted, with a grimace of remembrance.

"Jen that's almost too funny! But," and Mattie became serious, "you said Mac was sick?"

"Yeah, just a bit. Oh, I don't think it was serious. After she'd hurled she seemed fine the rest of the day. I was sick too, the day before, and I was OK by the time I picked you up from school wasn't I?"

"Yeah I s'pose... Is there some kind of bug going 'round the office?"

"I don't think so, Matts, I was sick because I ate some bad meatloaf, and Mac said she'd eaten some left-over Bolognese, so..."

"Well, I'm going to call her and make sure she's OK!"

"I'm sure she's fine Mattie," Jen smiled, "but if it makes you feel better..."

Mac became dimly aware that somewhere a 'phone was ringing. Struggling out of sleep, she realised it was the 'phone downstairs. And cautiously sitting up, she concentrated on how her stomach was feeling. OK... nothing happening there now... so far, so good. Cautiously standing, she shuffled her feet into a pair of mules, and started for the stair head. Just as she reached the stairs, the 'phone stopped and with a muttered "damn'" she stood undecided between returning to the bedroom to dress or just going downstairs in her pyjamas. Before she could reach a decision she heard her cell 'phone's ring tone coming from the dresser in her bedroom, and sighing, she reversed her steps until picking up the 'phone she saw Mattie's name on the caller ID, and closing her eyes in resignation, she took a deep breath and activating the call said, "Hello, Mattie?... Hi, yes, I'm fine... Honestly, just some bad Bolognese. Yes, I know... Well, it's taken a couple of days longer than it should have, but I'm getting over it... Sure, I _am_ looking after myself. Uh-huh... are you OK, good... good..., and are you behaving yourself...? Well make sure you keep it up. I love you... Yes, I know you do. Is Petty Officer Coates there? Let me talk to her a moment, please."

In Cape May Avenue, a reluctant Mattie handed the 'phone to Jen, who taking it gave Mattie a reassuring wink, and gently rubbed her hair. "Hello, Colonel, yes, it's Coates..."

"Good morning, Coates. I just wanted to ask if all's well at your end."

"Everything's fine ma'am. How are you? I mean, after the last couple of days."

"That's what I wanted to speak with you about. I'm still feeling a bit queasy, so I'm not doing much today. If I'm no better tomorrow, I'll report to the MedCen. If that happens, I'll call and let you know. I don't think it's anything too serious, but I'm pissed at how long it's taken to get over a food bug! Tell Mattie not to worry... she is behaving herself, isn't she?"

"I'll tell her, ma'am but there's no need to worry, she's being as good as gold! ...Yes, ma'am, I'll see you on Monday, goodbye!"

Ending the call, Jen handed the 'phone back to Mattie, and said, "See? The Colonel's doing great. She said she's going to spend the day relaxing, so I didn't see any need to wind her up by saying anything about a spat between two silly girls. So it'll just have to stay our secret, won't it?"

Concord and harmony seemingly restored, Jen decided not to try and push their reconciliation any further for the moment, content to let repairs take place in their own time. Leaning back on the couch, she unconsciously stretched out her arm, and drew Mattie back into an embrace, while her hand automatically reached up and smoothed the red curls. As she thought back over the conversation with Mac, she frowned slightly. Despite the Colonel's words, if she was considering reporting sick, then she was not OK. Given that Mac seemed to have gone out of her way to reassure Mattie and Jen that she was fine, it was highly improbable that she would welcome a visit today, but Jen determined that if Mac didn't call tomorrow to say she was going to the MedCen, then she would take an opportunity to head for Lemon Grove, just to make sure that Mac _was_ all right.

Mattie, seeing the frown on Jen's face asked, "Jen, _is_ everything alright, with Mac, I mean?"

"Well..." Jen began to say that the Colonel really was fine, but stopped and recalled that she had decided not lie, or, as she felt a pang of conscience, not to lie any more to Mattie. "I can't deny that I am a little concerned, Mattie, she's been a bit queasy for a couple of days, but she's sure she'll be fine. So I guess we'll just have to trust her instincts!"

"Yeah... but you were looking worried, Jen."

"Oh, well... I was wondering what to do for lunch and dinner." That was not, strictly speaking, a lie, those questions had crossed Jen's mind, but again she felt slightly uneasy, and then laughed outright as she recalled that the Admiral had once accused her of 'parsing the truth like a lawyer.' Jen had had no idea of what he had meant, and had turned to Mac to explain the comment. Mac had done so, and when asked if the Admiral had ever accused her of the same, she had admitted that he had, lots of times, and that she took as a compliment.

Mattie looked up, surprised at Jen's sudden amusement, and seeing the unspoken question in her eyes, Jen told her that she had been thinking of a run-in she'd had with the Admiral, and its outcome. "And," she added reflectively "it wasn't even really my fault."

"Whose fault was it Jen?" asked Mattie.

Jen looked her straight in the eyes, and a grin spread across her face. The grin must have given away the answer, as Jen and Mattie said simultaneously "Harm's!"

The thought of Harm's absence turned amusement to melancholia for a short while, until the mood was broken by Mattie's cell 'phone. Mattie snatched it up, and was about to go to her room to take the call, but with the memory of last night's events still raw, decided that taking the call in front of Jen would not only show that she didn't want to hide anything, but would also demonstrate her trust in the woman she really thought of as her big sister.

"Hello?"

"Oh, hi Linda!... No, nothing much... yeah, sure, hang on, I'll have to ask Jen... No, she's not babysitting me! I'm staying with her for a while, to keep her company while her friend's in hospital. Yeah, on Cape May, that's just a couple of blocks over from your mom's... Yeah, yeah, alright, already, I'll ask. Jen, it's Linda Graham, some of the guys are going over to Newport Avenue, and she wants to know if I'll go with them. Her brother got home yesterday, and she wants to buy him a welcome home gift. Can I go?"

Jen thought furiously, she was concerned that Newport Avenue was too far for Mattie to walk on her sticks, and she doubted the youngsters' ability and road sense in coping with the wheelchair, even if Mattie could be persuaded to use it. Stalling for time to decide, Jen asked, "Who's going?"

"Hang on, Linda...? Hi, Jen wants to know who's going... Uh-huh, uh-huh... OK... I'll tell her! Jen, it'll be Linda, Susie Jackson and Marian Hayes. Marian's driving"

The thought of four teenage girls in one car did little to reassure Jen. "Do I know this Marian girl?"

"No... I don't think so... but Mac does. She's let me go before when Marian's been driving. Please say I can go?"

"Oh well, if that's the case, yes."

"Hi Linda, yes, I can go... What time...? OK, two o'clock. No. I don't think I'll need my chair, just my spare legs! No, I mean my sticks...! Great, see ya!"

Jen bit back all the questions she was burning to ask, like who are these girls? How old are they? Where do you know them from? And most urgently, is this damn' Stacy Caldwell going to be there? Jen knew that if there was ever a time to show explicit trust in Mattie, that time was now. Although peace had broken out between them it was still fragile. Mattie had given her word to Mac that she wouldn't attempt to see or communicate with Stacy while she was under Jen's roof, and any questions implying that she might break her word, would, Jen knew, be taken as a gross insult and would be deeply and rightly resented.

Mac, meanwhile had replaced her phone on the dresser and sat down before it, solemnly looking at her reflection in the mirror, she looked, she admitted to herself, awful. Her skin looked sallow, and those weren't just bags under her eyes, they were suit-cases. H'mm, she thought eleven-forty-two, and she hadn't yet had so much as a coffee. She had already showered that day, and she wasn't planning to spend time with anyone, so the hell with it. Unless she decided to go out after all, she'd stay dressed as she was, and just slop around the house. But she was, she thought with a wry grin, feeling a bit lonely, and she knew exactly whose company she needed. It wouldn't be ideal but... The decision made, she went downstairs and put on a pot of coffee. As the coffee brewed, its inviting aroma stimulated her saliva glands, and she realised that she was hungry; dare she risk something to eat? A mood of recklessness swept over her; the hell with, she thought, let's see if I still have a Marine's stomach, although, she thought with a grimace as she reached for the bacon in the fridge, a bacon sandwich isn't perhaps a great idea! Oh, well, toast with English marmalade it would have to be!

Finishing her toast, and cradling her second mug of coffee, Mac waited to see if her stomach was going to rebel. Nothing seemed to be happening, so perhaps the worst was over. Now, it's twelve-oh-seven, so that's fifteen-oh-seven in Falls Church, so if I... Hey it's back! She exulted silently, I can tell the time again! This ability of hers made very little difference to her life, except that she didn't really need a watch, but it was a part of her, and when it had failed this morning, she had felt its loss. But now it was back!

Feeling much more cheerful, she curled up on the couch, and picked up the 'phone, dialling in a familiar number she waited for the response,

"Roberts' residence, good afternoon."

"Hi Harriett, it's Mac; is Harm there?... Hi sweetheart..."

Jen looked at Mattie and said, "So, you're being picked up by this Marian at two. Let's say I give you three hours... no, it's not a curfew, I just don't want you to get too tired, if she takes you back to the Graham's place, I'll pick you up at five, and then we can think about dinner. OK?"

Mattie grinned in acceptance of the terms, but entered a caveat, "OK, but we might be a bit late... It's not going to be up to me when we go home, but if we are late, I'll call, you 'kay?"

Jen smilingly agreed, and said, 'Okay." And then noticing the time exclaimed in mock dismay, "Oh my God, it's twelve already, and I've got so much to do! All my uniform blouses to wash, and I think I've only got one clean skirt left - so I'll need to go to the cleaners! There's three, no four days of running vests, socks and shorts plus smalls and things! Mattie, we're going to have to have an early and very quick lunch!"

The early and very quick lunch consisted of sandwiches and mineral water, with the promise of a more substantial dinner. Jen flew around the apartment and up and down to the utilities room in the basement, until Mattie's ride arrived, when she blew a sigh of relief, and changing into casual slacks and shirt, drove the two streets to Long Branch Avenue.

The Graham's house was at the north west of Long Branch Avenue, just short of the junction with Spray Street and the beach beyond, it was a long sprawling two storey house in mock-Spanish Colonial style, with whitened walls and a red-tiled roof. It was a large property, far bigger Mrs Graham admitted that she really needed, but it had been acquired for her, shortly after young Thomas' death, over her protests by her brother, Henry Downing, who had silenced her arguments by saying simply, "Alice, if you carry on like this I shall be hurt. You, Robert and Linda are all the family I have left; I think I have the right to make sure that you are looked after. Yes, I know you have your military survivors' benefits. But they won't last forever. So, unless you want to come and make do at La Jolla, you'll just have to put up with this!"

Jen Coates' knock at the door was answered by Alice Graham, who with a wide smile on her face ushered Jen into the broad entrance hall and said, "So you've heard have you? Come though and meet my boy! Such a wonderful surprise! I can hardly believe he's home!"

"Oh. I'm so sorry - no, no.! Of course I am delighted for you that he's home, it's just that when Mattie said they were going to get him a welcome home gift, I never made the connection that he had already arrived! I meant I'm sorry I'm disturbing you when everything must be chaos!"

"No, Jen, not at all." Smiled Mrs Graham, "To tell the truth, I want to introduce you to Robert, and to tell you..."

What Mrs Graham wanted to tell Jen would have to wait. A further knock on the door announced the arrival of Mrs Patricia Weaver, together with her daughter Julia, a girl about the same age as Linda and Mattie. Patricia Weaver was hugely stout, almost the same width as she was tall thought Jen with a twinge of guilt, but she was a cheerful, kind-hearted woman, who talked almost non-stop, and suffered badly from the warmth of the California climate. Huffing and puffing, she claimed, almost breathlessly that she would only stay a minute, but hearing that Robert had arrived safely she felt that she must call just to offer her congratulations! "And I see Jen has come, and for the same reason surely! How are you, Jen?" she asked pausing to regain her breath, "I don't really need to ask, you look so beautiful!" She then studied Mrs Graham with a pair of good-humoured eyes and said "And so do you Alice! And I'm not surprised! I'd be the same if my James had come home safe when I'd been so worried about him! How is the boy?"

"Well," said Alice Graham, ushering the party into a spacious living area, "I'm told he's much better than he was, but he's still sick; the doctors tell me 'though that now he's back home, with the best of modern medicine he'll be fine, and I'll be surprised at just how quickly he's back on his feet! But he's lost so much weight he looks like a holocaust survivor, but a few of his mom's dinners will soon fix that"

If Robert Graham did not quite look like a concentration camp victim, he was unhealthily thin, and as he pulled himself painfully to his feet to meet his visitors, Jen saw that he was a tall young man, easily matching Poppy Neumann in height. His face was thin and narrow, with cheekbones sharply defined and a rather aquiline nose set between a keen pair of hazel eyes, his chin was also well-defined, although Jen thought his illness may have been responsible for the way his skin seemed stretched over his bones. He looked older, she thought, than his twenty-four years, although again Jen thought that might be a result of his disastrous stay in Paraguay. A nearer indication of his real age she mused was his stammering disclaimer when Patricia Weaver urged him to lie down on the couch.

With an inward grimace, Jen reckoned that one talkative visitor was enough for a sick person, and sat down next to Julia, saying to her, "Hi, I'm not sure, but I don't think we've ever met? I'm Jen, Mattie Grace's kinda-big-sister."

Julia, a rather round-faced, pale, blonde teenager, had been sitting quietly, rather shyly, it seemed, and at first had seemed disinclined to acknowledge Jen's presence, but now turned to face her, "Mattie's friend! Are you... are you the one in the navy?"

"Yes," Jen grinned, "Guilty as charged!"

"That's what I want to do!" stated Julia, somewhat defiantly.

"What, join the navy?"

"Well, I haven't made up my mind one hundred per cent about the navy, but definitely but the military anyway!" Julia's tone was slightly defensive.

Jen was amused at the girl's vehemence. "Why so certain?" she asked.

Julia looked a bit embarrassed, "You'll think it's dumb," she protested.

"No," said Jen, "I might think a lot of things, but I never think anybody wanting to join the military is dumb."

"_She_ does," Julia muttered indicating her mother who was still talking at Robert Graham. "I was just a kid when 9/11 happened, and New York was so far away in that it seemed like it was on another planet, so I didn't really get it?" There seemed to be a plea for understanding in her last few words, so Jen nodded wordlessly in reply.

"But it's not another planet. It's real; we see it every night on the TV, Afghanistan and Iraq, and all." She blushed, "it's not that I want to fight and kill someone it's just..." her voice faded, but the look she turned on Jen more than made up for her lack of eloquence.

"Yes," Jen said softly, "I understand, I do really."

"Yeah, but _she _wants me to go to college instead!"

"Why not do both," suggested Jen, "Go to one of the academies, Annapolis, or West Point or Colorado Springs, or go to college, join the ROTC programme, and then when you graduate you get commissioned."

"Is that how you did it?

"No," Jen laughed, "I did it the hard way. I'm enlisted not an officer. I didn't go to college, I was given a choice, the navy or..." It was her turn to break off in confusion, realising that perhaps this was neither the time, nor place, nor company for a full recounting of her past.

Barely had she stopped speaking when she heard a familiar cynical voice say, "Oh, do go on, it was just getting interesting!"

Startled, she looked quickly over her shoulder thinking that somehow she was hearing things. Her ears however had not lied, not four feet from her chair was Mr Miles Caldwell, almost as carelessly dressed as he had been the previous day, and seeming entirely comfortable in his surroundings. He looked straight into her eyes, but other than a gleam of humour in his own eyes, gave no other sign of recognition.

Standing next to him Alice Graham's face was alight with happiness, and yes, Jen thought, with gratitude.

Robert Graham struggled out of his chair and said with every sign of enthusiasm, "Sir! It's good to see you again!"

"Yes, yes it is!" agreed Alice Graham. "And you've given me the opportunity to mend my manners!

"No, have I?" he said, "What opportunity?"

"I must apologise for yesterday, but when you arrived I was so surprised, that I forgot to thank you for being so kind to Robert, and seeing him safe home!"

"What, for dumping that stick insect on your doorstep? I don't expect any thanks for that!"

Alice laughed, "Don't you? Alright then, I won't embarrass you by saying just how grateful I am! Instead, may I introduce you to my friends? Patricia, Jennifer, this is Mr Caldwell," Alice looked at Jen for a significant moment, "Mr _Miles_ Caldwell. Mr Caldwell," she continued, "is our guardian angel. Without him, I don't think I would have had my stick insect back yet, or maybe not at all."

"True enough, mom," interjected the stick insect, "but you'll get him all embarrassed; watch out he doesn't head for the trees!"

"Not embarrassed at all!" denied Caldwell, "never had so much thanks for doing so little! Carry on, please, Mrs Graham!" As he spoke, he more or less pushed Robert back into his chair, and effectively cut off Mrs Graham's praise by asking the younger man whether he was feeling any ill-effects from his journey. Robert barely had time to assure him that he was fine and that he was looking forward to resuming work before he was interrupted by Patricia Weaver, who turning to Caldwell said she was so glad to meet him, and how much she liked his nephew, "Such a charmer! He's won all our hearts!"

"No, has he really?" he replied with a smile, "_All_ of them?"

Jen pretended not to see the amusement in his eyes as they briefly met hers. Inwardly she was boiling with indignation. Only the memory that she had arranged to collect Mattie, prevented her from making her excuses and leaving.

It was evident from what Mrs Graham had said that Caldwell had played a role in the safe return of Robert from Paraguay, and had so earned his mother's thanks. She had called him a guardian angel, which if it hadn't made Jen so angry, would have made her laugh. He might have been kind to Robert, but he was definitely no angel, and a part of Jen would have loved to have told Alice Graham how wrong about him she was. But however hateful he might be - and never more hateful than he was right now, when he was obviously enjoying her agitation - she knew she couldn't do it. He had been banished once for his folly, and it would be unfair if she were the cause of him once again being stigmatised for twenty year old sins, and it might be, although it was unlikely, that he had completely reformed his way of life

While Caldwell responded, politely enough, to Patricia Weaver's stream of inanities, Alice Graham took the opportunity of saying quietly to Jen, "I'm sorry, I had meant to tell you, I could see you were completely surprised."

Jen flashed her quick smile, "Oh, it doesn't matter," she assured the anxious widow.

Alice looked as if she was about to say more, but her attention was claimed by Patricia Weaver, and the opportunity for further private conversation was lost as a few minutes later the return of Linda Graham and Mattie Grace created a diversion.

They came in, still laughing at some private joke, Mattie now leaning rather heavily on her sticks, Jen was concerned to note, but still, the two of them making a very pretty picture. Although the two girls were markedly different in appearance, Linda's rich auburn hair and brown eyes complemented rather than contrasted with Mattie's copper curls and deep blue eyes.

It seemed Mattie had made an instant hit with one of the company. Robert Graham rose to his feet, and stood staring at her, apparently spellbound, until reminded of his manners by his mother, he gave a little start, and smiled, saying shyly to Mattie, "Hello."

Jen saw this without surprise; it was rare for Mattie not to attract admiring glances, and she was looking almost at her best this afternoon. Instinctively, Jen glanced towards Caldwell, wondering if Mattie bore a close enough resemblance to her mother to make him feel a pang. If it did he showed no signs. He was surveying her rather critically, and when Alice Graham introduced her to him, he caused Jen's heart to skip a beat, saying, "Hello, so you're Emily Grace's daughter? I'm pleased to meet you. I used to know your mother quite well."

For one terrible moment Jen felt sick with dread of what he might say next. Then their eyes met, a desperate appeal in her own, and she realised that he was actually amusing himself at her expense, and mischievously enjoying her discomfort. Jen felt her temper on the rise, effectively banishing the fear she had felt. But her anger was not whole hearted. His smile, aimed at her over Mattie's head held a hint of companionship as well as mockery, as if he felt that in Petty Officer Jennifer Coates he had discovered someone who could share his thoughts and jokes.

Mattie, looking up said simply, "Oh did you know my mom? I never knew she had any friends in California!" She hesitated and then asked with her sometimes disconcerting directness, "Are you related to Stacy Caldwell? He's a friend."

If anything thought Jen, was enough to convince to convince Miles Caldwell that Mattie was a lamb to be guarded from wolves, the innocence of her comment must have been sufficient. She hoped, but wasn't sure. He looked like a man half-listening with bored indulgence to a child's chatter. He said, "Yes, I'm his uncle; and if you're his friend, then you'll be able to introduce him to me, won't you?"

Mattie's surprise was proof, thought Jen, that Stacy Caldwell had told her nothing about his disreputable uncle. In fairness, though, it was an omission Jen conceded for which he could hardly be blamed.

Mattie on the edge of laughter exclaimed, "Oh! You're kidding, right? Did I say something dumb? You must know him much better than I do!" Her forehead creased in puzzlement.

"Not at bit! I don't know him at all - wouldn't recognise him if he walked into this room right now. When I left the States he was still in diapers."

"Oh, I see," said Mattie, the bewildered expression leaving her face.

"Well, I reckon you won't be disappointed when you do meet him," intervened Patricia Weaver. "He's polite, well mannered, dresses well and not at all conceited, which he could easily have become, as a result of all the girls that are chasing him!" She added as Mattie blushed crimson, "No, not you honey, I don't mean you! That boot's on the other foot! And don't worry, he doesn't seem at all attracted to the other girls, and I'm not surprised."

Her massive bosom heaved as she laughed, and threw Mattie into complete embarrassment by saying "Josh has said, so many times, that you're the prettiest girl he's seen in ages!"

At this point, Robert won Jen's approval by drawing Mattie a little away from the group, pretending to ask a question about something he'd seen in the street. They sat down together and were soon joined by Linda and Julia, all four with their heads together until Patricia Weaver broke up the party, heaving her bulk out of her chair and saying that she and Julia must be off, or Josh would want to know what had happened to them. Jen was about to follow her example, but became aware of Mattie urgently but discreetly signalling her to wait. As soon as the Weavers had left, the reason for the signalling was made clear. Linda asked her mother if Mattie could stay for dinner, "Please, mom? I want to show her the all neat stuff that Robert brought me back from Paraguay, particularly the Poncho, no not the Poncho: I don't mean the Poncho, but the other thing the... the..."

"Rebozo" said Robert helpfully.

" Yes! Rebozo!" said Linda committing the word to memory, "and the photos you took of all those strange places and the natives and things! Mom...?

"Yes, of course," agreed Alice Graham, "If Jen's happy that is!"

"Jen thinks, as I'm sure you do, Mrs Graham, that the invalid has had enough of visitors for one day," said Jen. "Another time, Mattie."

Mattie levered herself to her feet, and with an apologetic smile, nodded and said, "Yes, of course. I thought it might be a bit much."

Robert and Linda immediately raised a chorus of protest, under the cover of which Alice Graham said to Jen, "Let her stay! She's acting like a tonic on Robert. He does his best to hide it from me, but it seems to me like he's depressed, I think he feels he's let down his uncle, stupid of course, but you know what men are like! But Mattie's made him laugh three times! Let her stay. I won't keep her late, and I'll drive her home, so you don't have to worry about coming for her!"

"Mrs Graham, if you really want her to stay, then who am I to say no? But as for you driving her home, no, I won't hear of it. Mattie can call me when she's ready and_ I_ will come and get her!"

So saying, Jen made her farewells. So did Miles Caldwell; an event which she regarded with mixed feelings. He followed her out of the door and across the front yard, and she thought that he might be about to apologize for alarming her so much. But as she'd already formed a pretty accurate idea of his character she was not surprised when the first thing said was, "Who's Josh?"

"Josh," she replied primly, "is Joshua Weaver, Patricia's husband!"

"Yes, my pretty Petty Officer, I gathered that, and Julia's father too!" he said outrageously, "My powerful intellect had already informed me of that! Don't act dumb!"

"If you want to be accepted into people's homes and make friends around here then you need to mend your manners!" retorted Jen.

"I've none to mend, and very little wish to make friends with people around here, if by people you mean Alice Weaver and her like."

"Of course I don't" she interrupted impulsively, "I mean - oh! What a despicable man you are!"

"Well, if that's what you mean to say, you must have a very disorganised mind!" he commented. "I may be despicable - in fact I know I am - but what's that got to do with it?" He added as he saw her lips twitch, "Yes, please laugh! You have a pretty laugh, and I like the way your eyes dance."

Jen, aware that this speech had pleased and not offended her, said as composedly as she could, "We were talking about the Weavers, I think. They are solid citizens, and generally well liked."

"Rich, eh?" he said, simultaneously demonstrating his understanding and his disregard for polite double talk. "Where did he get it?"

"I'm not sure... They came here from Vegas I think. They make no secret of that, I have a feeling that he had something to do with a casino, but after the mob days, perfectly legal."

"No need to defend him," he said kindly, "I've been involved in gambling myself, though I daresay you would hardly call it _legal _or even respectable_._

"I should be surprised if I ever found out that anything you had done was respectable!" declared Jen, goaded into responding. Shocked by her own lapse into rudeness, she was thankful to see that they had reach Cape May Avenue, and then the awful realisation dawned, she had walked back from the Graham's, leaving her car parked outside their house.

"Where are you off to? I thought you lived here?" He smiled at the obvious frustration in her face.

"I... I've forgotten something at the Grahams'" she stammered. I'll say goodbye to you Mr Caldwell!" and turned on her heel to retrace her steps.

"No don't! He said, "that would be premature, I'll walk with you."

She stopped and faced him, "There's no need! Goodbye, Mr Caldwell!"

"Well, yes, there is," he disagreed, "You see, _my_ car is parked just behind _yours_! and if you think, Petty Officer Jennifer Coates," he said, taking her hand and placing it under his arm, "that I am going trail behind you like a stalker, all the way back to the Graham's, then forget it! Besides" he said, "I don't care for the idea of a young girl sauntering about these streets on her own!"

"I am not a young girl and I do not saunter" Jen replied hotly, pulling her hand away, but walking beside him. "Things have changed since you lived in the States!"

"Yes, for the worse!" he said in a complaining tone. "Tolerate my old-fashioned ideas, please. Being so old yourself, that should be easy for you!"

Jen could not fight down a chuckle, "Don't be absurd!" she said, "I may not be old, but I'm past the age when I need an escort! I wouldn't though, allow Mattie to walk about on her own." She hesitated, and said after a moment, "Can I ask you to mind what you say to Mattie. Since you have told her you knew her mother _quite_ _well_, she may try to ask you about Emily, and she is sharp enough to put two and two together. I know that you did it to scare me, but you succeeded. Be happy with that!"

He laughed, "No not to scare you, just teasing you a bit. You were so mad at me, that I couldn't resist!

"Chivalrous!" she remarked.

"Not a bit. I told you that I've got no virtues!"

"Then why did you insist on escorting me?"

"Because I wanted to of course! What a half-witted question!"

Jen's eyes began to dance, and her lips began to quiver, "You are the most provoking man I have ever met!"

"Oh, I doubt that!" he exclaimed, "I've met some Naval Officers!"

"If I didn't think you were totally shameless," said Jen in a choking voice, "I'd tell you that that is a_ terrible_ thing to say!"

"Well then," he replied, "let's be grateful that you do think it, and then we can be comfortable with each other."

"No we can't! Not until you stop trying to fool me that you're a complete ass! Didn't you bring Robert Graham home because you _wanted_ to?"

"Yes, I like the boy. Don't you?"

"Yes, but what's that..."

"Now don't go getting the idea that I came back to the States just on his account!" he warned her. "There's nothing farther than the truth. All I did was beg a ride on the air ambulance and sit with him during the flight up to LA. Not a difficult job!"

"And then went to the trouble of bringing him down to San Diego," said Jen thoughtfully.

"Oh, that was because..." he hesitated so briefly that Jen thought she might have imagined it, and then continued blandly "... because his uncle is some kind of major mover and shaker, and you never know when a favour owed by someone like him might be useful."

"Nice catch!" said Jen admiringly. "You were _that_ close to telling me that you came to San Diego to see your nephew, too!"

"Ah, I _did_ tell you that I didn't know he was here! I thought I did," he said nonchalantly. "I hope he is going to come back. According to Alice Weaver, he is perfection itself and I _should_ like to meet a Caldwell who fitted that description."

"Well you won't see one in your nephew!"

"How do you know? You've never seen him!"

"No, but..."

"_And_, your friend likes him," he persisted, "You told me so yourself, and I have the greatest respect for her opinion."

"Have you?" she said wrathfully, "when _you_ have never seen _her_!"

"Well, not to my knowledge, no," he admitted, "But _she_ chose_ you_ for a friend."

"And I suppose you'd say exactly the same to her as you just said to me!"

"Well yes," he answered, "how else am I going to get in to her good books?"

"Yes!" said Jen with considerable bitterness "and probably without even a blush!"

"Oh, very likely!"

Unable to think of a suitable answer, Jen walked on in silence.

"I promise you, I won't blush," he reassured her.

She choked, but managed to respond with a fair degree of gravity, "I shouldn't think you know how to!"

"No, I don't think I do" he said slowly, as if giving the matter some consideration. "At my age, it's probably too late to learn, don't you think?"

"Mr Caldwell," she said, turning her head to look up at him, "Be serious for a moment. No, I haven't met your nephew, but you have met Mattie. You're a sensible man: you're not some college kid, you've got some experience under your belt and ... you loved Mattie's mom! Seeing Mattie must have brought it all back..."

"D'you know, the odd thing is, it didn't" he interrupted her, "_Is_ she so like Emily?"

Jen, having seen photos of Mattie's mother, gasped in astonishment, "The very image!"

"No, is she? How our memories fool us. I could have sworn Emily had brown eyes!

"What! Have you _forgotten_?" demanded a stunned Jen.

"Well, it _was_ more than twenty years ago," he said apologetically.

"And no doubt you've confused her with some other woman!"

"That's very probable," he acknowledged.

Jennifer Coates decided, while she struggled to control her emotions that one of Miles Caldwell's most annoying characteristics was his uncanny ability to throw her into giggles at the most inappropriate moment. But with an effort, she mastered herself and said, "But you must remember that you loved her, once, and you can't want her daughter to fall victim to a male gold digger, even if he is your nephew!"

"No. Not that I've really thought about the subject, but I don't think I'd want anyone to fall into a gold digger's clutches. Or, come to think of it, any sort of predator. But, you know, you might be doing my foolish nephew an injustice, he may have fallen for Mattie. She is after all, very beautiful!"

Jen looked up quickly, smiling at this praise of Mattie, "She is very pretty, isn't she?"

"Oh, absolutely. My nephew may well have fallen in love with her!"

Jen frowned, while she considered this for a moment, before saying, "It doesn't matter if he has. He's not the right man for her. No-one is yet! She's far too young. You must know that!"

"No, I don't. Her mother was just that age when she married Tom Johnson!

"Which proves she's too young!"

He grinned appreciatively, but replied, "You might be right, but you can't expect me to agree with you. After all, I tried to marry Emily myself!"

"Yes, but you were only a boy then! You must be wiser now!"

"Oh, much wiser! Far too wise to meddle in something that doesn't concern me!

"Mr Caldwell, it should concern you!"

"Petty Officer, it doesn't!"

"Then if you've no interest in your nephew, why stay in San Diego? Why do you hope he means to come back here?

"I didn't say I had no interest in him. I admit, I didn't think I had, but that was before I knew he was making up to your Mattie. You must admit that that provides a very interesting situation!"

"And very amusing too!"

"Yes, that's what I think."

Jen said despairingly, "I might as well talk to a gate-post."

"You do talk to some strange things!" he remarked, "Do you find gate-posts more or less responsive than walls?

Jen couldn't help smiling, but said very seriously, "Promise me one thing, at least. If you won't intervene to stop this miserable affair, promise me you won't promote it."

"Oh, readily! I'm just an innocent bystander."

Jen was hardly satisfied, but said in somewhat reproving tones, "I'll take your word for that."

"Oh you're quite safe doing that. I shan't feel any temptation to break it!" he replied cheerfully.

Feeling that this comment showed him to be wholly irredeemable, Jen walked on in silence, trying to work out why she let herself talk to him at all, let alone allowed him to walk with her. She found no good answer. Although he seemed armoured against snubs, Jen knew that she could have sent him packing if she'd really tried. After a half-hearted attempt to convince herself that she had endured his presence only in an effort to get him to help with Mattie, she came to the guilty conclusion that she enjoyed his company, and worse, that she would have been disappointed if he had told her that he would be leaving San Diego in the near future.

She reflected that it was because he was so different from almost all the other men she knew and that something about him appealed to her sense of humour, and made toleration possible. He wasn't handsome, he wasn't well-dressed, he had no manners and it seemed no morals. He had nothing in his favour but his smile, and Jen had too much commonsense and was too careful to let a man's smile lead her astray, no matter how appealing it was. But just as she reached that decision, he spoke, and she glanced up at him, quickly realising that she had overestimated both her commonsense and her sense of caution. He was smiling at down at her, and she was unable to resist returning his smile.

At rest, she thought, his face was harsh, but when he smiled it was transformed. His eyes lost their cold, cynical expression, warming into laughter and holding besides amusement a look of understanding. He teased her, but not unkindly, and when he discomfited her, his eyes conveyed sympathy as well as amusement, and clearly invited her to share the joke. And, thought Jen, the thing was that she did share it! He also seemed to think that they shared a bond, and the unwelcome suspicion that he was right made her look straight ahead saying, "Yes? What did you say?"

Quick to hear the repressive tone in her voice, he replied meekly, "Nothing which would cause offence, I promise you. I only said 'Please tell me,' and then you smiled at me and I forgot the rest of the question. Just _how i_n all the unnumbered years of your life have you managed to escape matrimony?

Jen's dimple peeped out, but she answered gravely, "I am quite happy to stay single." The thought struck her that he might think that she had never received a proposal, which for some indefinable reason was unacceptable to her, and she destroyed whatever effect her dignified reply might have had by adding, "but you needn't think that I haven't been asked!"

"I don't!" he chuckled

Jen feeling the blood rush to her face, tried to recover her lost dignity, "Well, if that is what you wished me to tell you..."

"Oh no," he interrupted, "Until you smiled at me I thought I knew, but you aren't at all shrewish - not in the least!"

"Oh!" gasped Jen, "Shrewish? Oh... you... you... I am nothing of the sort!"

"Yes, that's what I said" he pointed out affably.

"You didn't! You... you said..." her sense of the ridiculous came to her rescue, and her infectious chuckle broke out. "You horrible man! Stop teasing me. What do you really want me to tell you?"

"Oh I was just wondering why we had walked past our cars," he said pointing back some fifty or sixty yards in the direction from which they had come.

Jen burst out laughing again, and turning with him walked back to the vehicles in question. He waited while she climbed into the Escort, and then just as she started the engine, he tapped on the window. Rolling it down she looked at him inquiringly.

"I like your hair worn loose," he said casually, and with a grin and a half-salute he walked back to his own car.

Jen put her thoughts and feelings to one side for the few minutes it took for the drive back to Cape May Avenue. Re-entering the apartment, she made a hasty dinner of tinned tuna and cold pasta, and then turning on the TV idly flicked through the channels in the hope of finding some entertainment to while away the time until Mattie should call. But, as usual on a Saturday there were very few programmes that engaged her. She sat, not really watching the moving images, and trying to decide why, when yesterday, although she had found Miles Caldwell amusing, she had been in a raging temper when she left him, yet today, she had left him in a fit of laughter, when he had been far ruder, and certainly more provoking, and... annoying.

As the word came into mind, Jen recalled the first conversation she'd ever had with Mac, that Christmas six years ago. With nowhere else to place her, other than the Brig, Rabb had tried several alternatives for her accommodation before he had persuaded Mac to babysit his prisoner overnight, and Jen had challenged Mac as to why she thought Rabb cared what happened to her, when all it had seemed he had done all day was to try and get rid of her. Mac had half-seriously taken a truculent Jennifer Coates to task and had said to her, "My guess Petty Officer Coates is that you can be pretty annoying;" and had dryly added, "The Commander doesn't like to be a junior in that department."

And that, mused Jen, is probably part of the attraction, Caldwell is annoying, and that reminded her of Harm, and despite her denials to Mattie and Fran, Jen still thought of him with a not entirely platonic warmth, even though he was married to Mac, and Jen, despite the gap between their ranks, and everything that went with that difference honestly did like Mac. Remembering the latter stages of her conversation with Miles Caldwell, his question why she had never married, and her response, she was led to question if the real reason she had turned down the two proposals she had received was not because the men had not been like Harm, but because they had not been Harm.

Feeling a little ashamed of herself, and uncomfortable with the reason why, Jen was not sorry when she was forced to abandon her profitless reflections by the insistent ringing of her cell 'phone as Mattie called to come and collect her from the Grahams.

Mattie's return to the apartment was the signal for her to begin a running commentary on her evening. Jen smiled as she realised that almost every other sentence, tumbling as they did in quick succession from Mattie's lips, began with "Roberts says..." or "Robert thinks...", or "Do you think that Robert..." Heartily thankful that at least Robert Graham had diverted Mattie's attention away from Stacy Caldwell, Jen could not help but wonder how long it would be before she would cringe at the sound of Robert's name.

However, Mattie's enthusiasm soon waned, and she quietened. Afraid that she might now be remembering and brooding over the previous night's argument, Jen almost asked if Mattie was feeling OK, but not wanting to risk a repeat of the previous evening's storm, decided upon an oblique approach. If she could just get Mattie to start talking about something, about anything, then perhaps, there was a chance that she might open up about what was bothering her. "Do you want a drink before you go to bed, Mattie? I bought some drinking chocolate, or there are some sodas and mineral waters in the fridge."

"No, no thanks... Jen? "

The questioning note in Mattie's voice after her unusual silence alerted Jen to potential disaster. Prepared for the worst, she cautiously replied, "Yes?"

"You know how I managed to walk without my sticks today, well, if I work really hard, and I get the strength back in my legs, do you think I'll ever make it as a navy pilot?"

Jen gave an inward sigh of relief, and thumbed the remote to switch off the TV. "Honey, think how far you've come in just two years. When you woke up after the crash, your neck was in a brace and you couldn't move from the shoulders down. Now look at you, you've got full movement everywhere. OK, OK, I know," she said as Mattie made to interrupt her, "I know you're still not happy with your legs, but Mattie, you're still only seventeen, OK, nearly eighteen, but you've still got time. It's great that you've got something to aim for, and yes, you'll make it. I'll be with you all the way, and l'm going to let you in on a secret: I'm going to be so proud of you that I have made a promise to myself that I'm going to be the first enlisted who salutes you when you graduate. You'll get your gold wings! But, hon, you need to pace yourself; what you don't need is to set yourself back by pushing too hard too soon."

"Yeah, but if I want to get to the academy, I need to go next year if I'm going to graduate on schedule."

"What schedule Mattie? Lieutenant Roberts, Bud's brother, Mike, he didn't go to the academy until he was what, twenty-two, twenty-three? And there were plenty of other midshipmen the same."

"Yeah, but he was enlisted first, wasn't he?" Mattie queried.

"Well, yes, but that shouldn't make any difference."

"Yeah... but, I don't know, somehow it does."

Jen considered. Mattie was sat in one of the lounge chair, feet and knees apart and leaning forward, with her elbows resting on her knees. Her face, framed by her hair, had an earnest expression rarely seen, except when she was deadly serious over some matter.

Relieved that Mattie's interest in a naval career, which she seemed to have forgotten while she was rhapsodising over Stacy Caldwell, had revived and praying that her next words would turn out to be true, Jen said, "OK, You're going to the academy, that's a given; it's never been in doubt, before, so what's suddenly brought this on?"

"Well... this afternoon, before she left, Julia Weaver said she'd been talking to you and that she liked you and that you didn't think she was dumb when she said she wanted to join the military."

"Yes, we talked about it a bit, but..."

"Yeah, then she asked if I thought you might help her, and asked for your number... and... and..."

"And what, hon?"

"I said I didn't have my 'phone with me, and that I couldn't remember it," Mattie spoke in rush and stared down at the floor, unable to meet Jen's eyes.

"Why would you say that to her?" Jen asked gently.

"You'll think it's stupid." Mattie said uncomfortably.

"I won't, I promise you."

Mattie, bit her lower lip, a habit Jen was sure she'd picked up from Fran, and still refusing to meet Jen's eyes said in a voice filled with embarrassment, "Uh, I guess, because..." she paused for a few seconds, and then plunged on, "because I was jealous!"

Of all the reasons Jen might have seen for Mattie's behaviour, Jen thought, that was one she hadn't seen coming! Not quite sure how to respond she hesitated.

"See!" Mattie exclaimed, desperately wanting to fill the silence, "I told you it was stupid!"

"Uh, no, Mattie, I don't think it's stupid... but I am having a little trouble processing it. Why be jealous of Julia?"

"Well look at her!" Mattie protested, "Straight A's, she's still got working legs, she's on the Volleyball Team, and if she wants to go to the academy this year she will! And...and... I won't. So... I didn't want you to help her." Mattie's voice tailed off miserably and she sat looking at Jen, her heart in her eyes. "Jen, does that make me a bad person?" she wanted to know.

Jen slipped to her knees, and reaching out, folded Mattie into a hug and answered, "No, Mattie it doesn't make you a bad person, it makes you normal. And you know what?" she asked, releasing the younger girl, and sitting back on her heels, and smiling at her, "admitting to someone else the way you feel makes you a brave person. Besides," she added, "It's not that simple. When the time comes for academy applications, it's not just enough to get the right SATs score, and a convincing personal letter, every applicant has to have a recommendation, from someone the academy board respects. Harm's recommendation is a given, and I know that Mac will write you one as well. With two crackerjack lawyers on your side, Julia, hell even the academy admissions board, won't stand a chance!"

Mattie mustered a half-grin in acknowledgement of Jen's attempt to cheer her up, but it was evident that she still wasn't entirely satisfied. Jen thought for a moment or two, and decided to leave the situation as it stood. If Mattie wanted to pursue the conversation, she would let the teenager do it in her own time.

Wanting to signal that she thought the discussion closed, Jen said, "Anyway, Mattie, I know something that even a pair of crackerjack lawyers like Mac and Harm doesn't know! I know that I want a hot chocolate before I hit my rack... and if I remember right, we've still got some marshmallows left. And, it's getting late, so why don't you get your pyjamas on, and I'll heat up the milk, by the time you're done in the bathroom, the chocolate will be ready, and we can relax for ten minutes or so before I call taps! We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. If we don't hear from Mac, by eleven tomorrow, we're going to head over to Lemon Grove, and then I think I can just about manage lunch, and after that we need to go and see Fran. With everything that happened today, we clean forgot to visit her, and I promised I'd bring some books, remember? And then tomorrow evening, we have been invited to dinner!"

Alternately chivvying and encouraging the younger girl, Jen got her through the bed-time routine, and chocolate finished, rinsed the mugs, pointed Mattie in the direction of her bed, and headed for the shower. Standing under the jet of water, she grinned ruefully to herself. Mattie, she had assured Mac, would be no trouble; well she may be no trouble she thought, but damn, she can be exhausting. Even as the thought came to her, Jen suddenly realised that it was true and that she was more tired than she had thought. Quickly finishing her ablutions, she lost no time in slipping into her own pyjamas, and climbing into bed, where turning the light out, she had a sudden and unbidden mental image of a darkly tanned face with an amused smile.

"Stoopid" she criticised herself, and smiled in the dark. She was still smiling when she fell asleep seconds later.


	9. 07 Ocober 2007

**Sunday 7 October 2007**

Mac woke early, five twenty-eight, she realised, wondering what had woken her. Lying still she ran a mental check list as she monitored her body's responses. Everything seems in working order, she thought, but I'm not getting out of bed this early on a Sunday morning, unless I have to. Turning onto her other side, she curled up under the duvet and was just about to drift off back to sleep when she became aware of pressure on her bladder. Oh, damn, she thought wearily, I have to; if it's not one thing it's another. Irritably throwing off the covers, she shoved her feet into her mules and sleepily shuffled into the en-suite bathroom. Sitting and waiting while her bladder emptied, she felt her mouth suddenly flood with saliva as her stomach convulsed. She could only sit helplessly as she brought up mouthful after mouthful of bile.

Dammit, she groaned to herself, another pair of pyjamas for the laundry _and_ a bathroom floor to clean and I need a shower now. Hah! so much for the extra sleep she'd been looking forward to!

Both embarrassed and angry with herself for suddenly lacking the ability to control her own body Mac set about policing the bathroom. On her hands and knees a few minutes later, the nature of the clean-up was almost enough to start her vomiting all over again, but by a supreme effort of will she fought back the nausea, and task completed, she emptied the contents of the bucket into the bowl and flushed away the evidence. Rinsing the bucket, and re-filling it with cold water, she distastefully stripped of her pyjamas and leaving them in the bucket, stepped into the shower. Having finished washing her hair, Mac dripped shower-gel onto the wash cloth and started to soap herself vigorously. She suddenly winced as the wash-cloth scrubbed over her breasts, ouch, that hurt! she thought, and with a stab of fear, anxiously checked for lumps. No lumps, thank you God, she said silently, her knees feeling weak with relief, but there was no doubt, her breasts were definitely tender, and she thought, squinting at her own body, they seemed to be larger than normal. A dawning realisation shocked her. Numbly she tallied up her symptoms: nausea, stomach pains, yesterday's strange lethargy, today's sore breasts... but... she couldn't be... the doctor back at Bethesda had told her, she only had a four per cent chance of ever conceiving. Think, think! She told herself furiously, when was the last time she'd... Oh damn! it had been about six weeks...

Now real fear gripped her. What if she was... what would it mean with her underlying medical condition? The doctors had given her a whole raft of pamphlets, and she'd read them all; would she be able to cope? Oh God, she was nearly forty on top of everything else! Old for her first time! Would her body be able to cope? Totally overcome by panic, fear, doubt and questions she couldn't answer, Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie-Rabb USMC slid down the shower wall, and hugging her knees under the stream of warm water, dropped her head and wept.

Jen woke up as her alarm went off at six o'clock. She felt totally relaxed and at peace with the world. Stretching luxuriously, she sat up and swung her feet on to the floor, quickly changing into shorts and T-shirt, she gathered her bits and pieces, she headed for the door, at the door she stopped for a moment to scrunch her hair back into its customary morning-run pony-tail, and suddenly heard a voice, a casually teasing voice that said, "I like your hair worn loose." The voice was so real that she cast a startled look around the apartment before she realised that the voice was in her head. Smiling at her own foolishness, both for placing too much significance on a comment that she was sure was meant only to tease and for thinking, even for a second, that Miles Caldwell was somehow in her apartment, Jen ran lightly down the stairs and jogging slowly to warm up, gradually increased her speed as she headed along the bike path towards the loop under the Pacific Highway before turning back to head for home.

Jen was surprised, but not worried when on returning to the apartment Mattie's door was closed and there was no sign of the younger girl. Guessing that yesterday's shopping trip, and the events of the late afternoon and evening had tired Mattie more than Jen had thought, she put off waking her friend for a while. Taking advantage of a peaceful Sunday morning, Jen took a long shower and then sitting at her dresser with hairdryer in one hand and hairbrush in the other, her thoughts elsewhere, she sleepily dried her hair. Choosing a pair of slacks and an open-necked shirt, she dressed, and going to the kitchen debated whether or not to risk her hand at scrambling eggs for breakfast. She decided against being so adventurous, so while the coffee was brewing, she sliced a bagel and put the two halves into the toaster.

A glance at the clock on the lounge wall showed that it was long past eight o'clock, and as indulgent as she felt this morning, it was now time she thought for Mattie to put in an appearance. A knock on Mattie's bedroom door brought no reply, so Jen opened the door and with a bright "Rise and shine" ready on her lips stood and stared puzzled at the empty, unmade bed. Moving towards the bed, she felt the sheets; they were cold to her hand, not a vestige of body heat left behind. Jen thought for a moment, it was almost incredible that Mattie could have slipped past her the few moments she had been occupied in the kitchen, and almost inconceivable that she wouldn't have said her good morning, no matter how bleary-eyed and sleep-heavy she might have been. Still, she might have done so, so Jen turned and crossed to the bathroom. Tapping on the door she called out, "Mattie? Mattie, are you in there?"

Listening carefully, not only could she not hear a reply, neither could she hear the sound of running water. Recalling the concerns they'd had about Mattie falling in the shower, Jen looked into the bathroom, which was as empty as the bedroom. Now feeling real concern, and fully aware of the unlikelihood, Jen looked into her own room and re-checked Mattie's room, which was still empty. Frantically, feeling the beginnings of alarm, Jen checked the room. Mattie's cell 'phone was on the nightstand, and her sticks were propped in the corner nearest the bed. She wouldn't, she couldn't have gone far without her sticks, Jen thought. But where would she go, and why would she go anywhere without them? Surely she didn't think she could make to the local paper stand without them. Darting into the hallway, Jen pressed the call button for the elevator, wondering perhaps if it had jammed somehow between floors with Mattie trapped inside. However the car rose smoothly to the third floor and the door gently hissed open. Mattie wasn't inside. Riding the elevator down to street level, Jen fretted impatiently and once arrived she ran through the street door, leaping down the steps and almost running the hundred or so yards to the intersection newsstand. She'd seen the newsboy many times in the past, but she hadn't really looked at him. He appeared to be about fifty years old with a few grey hairs forming a fringe around the back of his skull. He was seated in a motorised wheelchair and was wearing a faded green army combat jacket with a subdued Screaming Eagle patch on the shoulder.

Breathlessly Jen asked him if he had seen a red-haired teenage girl in the last half-hour. She would Jen explained be unsteady on her feet, and possibly limping.

"Nope, sorry Petty Officer," he grinned apologetically, "th'only gal I seen here today is you. But if I see a youngster matching the description, I'll tell her you was looking!"

Thanking him and asking him to please keep a watch for Mattie, Jen turned towards home. As she did so, she suddenly realised that the newsboy had addressed her by her rank, "Now," she thought "how the hell did he know that?" but that mystery she resolved, would have to wait.

Standing in the middle of the street level hallway, Jen stopped to think logically. There was very little chance that Mattie could have left the building without her sticks unless she could fly. A chill of horror ran through her and she went weak at the knees. Yes, Mattie had been a little upset last night, but surely not so upset that she'd... No, it was impossible, but nevertheless with a dread-filled heart Jen went back out through the building door and walked around to the back yard. No, no Mattie, thank God!

Feeling weak with relief, Jen returned to the building. Thinking furiously, she realised that there were two areas she had not yet checked, with a slight lift of optimism she descended the short flight of stairs to the utility room - she had, she remembered made much of the amount of laundry that needed doing, but she hadn't intended that Mattie do it. Her hopes failed, the utility room was also unoccupied, the washing machines and tumble dryers standing cold and empty.

Jen returned to street level and with a feeling not unlike a condemned man hoping for a reprieve she opened the door to the stairwell and started to climb. At last her efforts were rewarded Mattie was sitting on the stairs between the first and second floors with a guilty and wary expression on her face. "Hi Jen," she said with a fair attempt at unconcern, "I kinda went for a walk, but I forgot my sticks. I got this far, and thought I'd take a bit of a rest."

Jen was torn between relief and anger and was about to explode and launch into a tirade about how worried she'd been and how stupid and irresponsible Mattie had been, but then realised that beneath the bravado Mattie was not far from tears and that underneath her cheerful expression she seemed to be in pain.

Concern, temporarily at least, taking the place of anger Jen looked at Mattie and said, "Well OK, can you stand up now please?"

Mattie took hold of the wall railing and managed to drag herself up onto her very wobbly feet. "Now," said Jen "put your arm around my shoulder," and placing her own arm around Mattie's waist they made their slow and painful way back up the stairs. They were both panting for breath by the time they regained the apartment, and lowering Mattie into one of the chairs, Jen took a seat on the couch.

"Mattie," she said eyeing her with marked disfavour, "I'm too mad and too tired right now, to talk about this. But this isn't over. Give me five minutes, and I'll bring you a coffee and a bagel. Once you've had them, I want you to go to your room and stay there until I say otherwise. If we were in a bigger place I'd just ground you, but if I did that here we'd be tripping over each other, so you're CB until I say different. No, don't argue, don't say anything. Right now I don't want to hear it."

Coffee and bagel consumed, Mattie retreated to her bedroom, closing the door behind her with what carefully wasn't quite a slam. Jen poured herself a coffee, and sat cradling it in her hands and wondering what she was going to do to...er...with Mattie.

She was pretty sure what the girl had been trying to do, and as a result the temporary banishment had been more that she didn't want to explode and say too much in anger rather than a desire to inflict punishment.

In the meantime there were still the rest of the day's plans to complete. Jen checked her watch; it was still only twenty minutes past ten, still time for the Colonel to call before the deadline Jen had set. But she also wanted to get a few books for Fran. And Fran's books were still in her room, currently occupied by Mattie. Jen felt that she still hadn't cooled down enough to talk to the teenager, and decided to wait before getting the books rather than risk a confrontation. In the meantime, she could profitably employ the next half an hour wielding an iron. The thought being parent to the deed, a few minutes later saw her at the deployed ironing board reducing the size of a pile of un-ironed blouses.

By the time she had finished, it was past eleven o'clock. The routine motions of ironing, had served in great measure to restore to her a fair degree of composure, but still not relishing the task, she went to Mattie's room and said, "Mattie, please come out now. We need to talk about this morning."

A sullen-faced Mattie, leaning heavily on her sticks, left her bedroom and weaved her way across the lounge area. Where taking a set across from Jen she waited to hear her fate.

"Alright, Mattie, suppose you explain to me just what happened this morning?"

Mattie paused before replying, "It's kinda complicated Jen," she offered hopefully.

"Nope, not going to work."

"Oh. Well, I confused my ambitions with my abilities."

"Nope, not going to work either."

Mattie sighed, and glared at Jen, but then realising that she wouldn't be able to put off trying to explain said, "Jen, that's pretty nearly true - really. Like yesterday, when I walked across the lounge and back; and then when we talked about the academy last night, and there's Robert Graham. Do you know he nearly died from that infection? All I got are these stupid wonky legs. And he's talking of going back to work in a coupla weeks. So, I figured, if my therapist tells me I need to spend more time off my sticks, then I'd do what he said. So I figured if I could manage to climb down the stairs, you know, holding on to the hand rails, I could ride the elevator back up. But, the thing is, when I got to the bottom of the stairs, I felt so good that I figured I'd climb back up. But," she finished miserably, "my damn' legs gave out half-way up." Drawing a deep breath she continued, "I wasn't worried, 'cause I knew you'd find me. I was mad at myself for being stupid for thinking I could do it, and doubly mad for being so stupid for not taking my cell. I just never thought I'd need it. And I'm sorry I worried you, but Jen it was something I had to do."

Jen listened intently, not just to the words, but to the tone. Mattie wasn't making excuses. She had stated her case, she apologised for causing unnecessary worry and she had identified what she could have done to obviate that worry. She had learned a lesson, of that Jen was in little doubt, and there was little that Jen could do that would be constructive. She continued to contemplate the figure in front of her.

"OK, Mattie, here's the thing: You didn't worry me. You scared the crap out of me. I didn't know where you'd gone, or what you were doing, or when you'd come back." Or if you'd come back she thought remembering that desperate walk round to the back yard. But there was no way she was going to mention that to Mattie. "But from you've just said, you had your reasons for deciding to do what you did. You've learned a lesson or two and you're back here safe. I got just one thing to say: don't ever, ever do anything quite so dumb again. Other than that, we're done here."

Mattie gazed at her in amazement, "Is that it? No yelling, no CB, no grounding?"

"Yep. Like I said we're done here. Unless you want me to punish you?"

"No, of course not... but I figure maybe I'd deserve it."

"Mattie, like I said last night, you're nearly eighteen, nearly a legal adult. And you took responsibility. So, that's it. Now, do you want sandwiches for lunch now, or do we head over to Lemon Grave before we go to see Fran, and then grab something in the MedCen Cafeteria?"

Mattie blinked in astonishment. She had expected Jen to at least tear her a new one, especially after the fight of a couple of nights ago. She knew enough of Jen's background and history to know that she was not shy about saying what she wanted to whomever she wanted. Mattie considered briefly; she wasn't all that happy about being let off and being told that it was OK now that she had accepted responsibility. She didn't want to be punished, of course, but this was just weird.

"Mattie?"

"Uh, sandwiches are fine, thanks, Jen. Do you want a hand?"

"No, thanks, except you can pour me a glass of milk, and whatever you want to drink," Jen replied.

Lunch was still a slightly strained affair, as the two struggled to reconcile their feelings. Jen still loved this rebellious, opinionated, headstrong and fiercely loyal red-haired girl, but was fast realising that she was rapidly becoming an adult and was no longer quite the same as the desperately lonely Mattie who had come into her life just three short years ago, looking for someone to trust. Harm and Jen, each in their own fashion, had offered protection and guidance to Mattie, had provided a safe refuge for her and had loved her, seeing the cocky, truculent fourteen year old grow into a friendlier, less suspicious young woman, ready to lose the chip off her own shoulder and listen to the other side of an argument. Now Mattie was spreading her wings, and as much as Jen wanted to shield her and stand below the nest ready to catch her when she fell, Mattie had to make her mistakes accept responsibility for them and learn from her errors.

Mattie, occupying herself with drying glasses and plates was very aware of Jen standing beside her. Since her mother's death Jen was the nearest thing she had to a mother. But Jen was more, and at the same time, less than a mother. She combined the roles of mom and sister, but she was also at times just a sister. They giggled together and they shared each other's secrets - Mattie knew that Jen still wanted the same things she had wanted when she was twenty-two - a career, a good man and a couple of kids; she'd joked that she'd settle for two out of three, but Mattie knew Jen still yearned and hoped for fulfilment, because at the moment Jen had only the one thing going for her, her career; the good man and the kids had yet to come. Jen had helped her buy her first bras and feminine hygiene products. She had told her about boys and their hopes and the schemes they plotted, and they had spent hours cuddled together weaving complex hopelessly romantic fairy tales. However throughout all these experiences it had been Jen in control. Now it appeared that she was letting go of the reins and Mattie, although she had fretted impatiently, waiting for the day she could do as she liked, found it vaguely unsettling. Mattie, since becoming part of Harm's life had become familiar with concepts of honour, service and duty, and in an abstract manner she had applied them to herself in context of military service. She still had to learn that even adults are not always free to act as they please, and that duty comes in many forms.

Both, still pre-occupied with their thoughts and feelings, were somewhat subdued as Mattie let the two of them in to the house on Pacific Avenue. Their first sight of Mac, however, alerted them that something was very wrong, and their feelings pushed to one side, they exchanged a look of alarm, and concentrated their attention on Mac.

Mac greeted them at the kitchen table. She had in great measure regained her self-control since the tears of this morning, but was still subdued. She had dressed in sweater and slacks, rather than stay in pyjamas, but more as a gesture of defiance against fate than with any intention of presenting herself to the world. She couldn't ignore the possibility that she had, against the odds, conceived. True, she lacked positive proof, but the evidence in the form of her symptoms was there; she could build a good case with what she had. She tried to present a calm front to Jen, and especially Mattie, but she was inwardly terrified. Her reading of the medical literature, hastily stuffed under a banquette cushion, as the two had entered had horrified her with its catalogue of disasters that could befall her. She had thought of 'phoning Harm, but what could he do? He was over two and a half thousand miles away, and while he would try to be supportive, all she would achieve would be to cause him anxiety until he could return to her side. She couldn't tell him anything yet, anyway, not until she was certain. Besides, if she had conceived, she needed to tell him face to face, there were topics that would be needed to be discussed between husband and wife. There were options and decisions... No she wouldn't think of those, not yet anyway, not until she had proof, not until she'd spoken to Harm.

She felt dull and lack lustre, incapable almost of functioning and despite the warmth of a California September day she felt cold and her skin felt clammy. Had she observed these symptoms in anyone else she would have instantly made a diagnosis of shock. She would have been correct.

Although she managed to perform her duties as a hostess, offering coffee and cookies to her visitors, she did so in an automaton like manner. Mattie pretended not to notice, but Jen, the more experienced, and more observant saw, noted and was accordingly concerned. While she was wondering how to tactfully broach the subject, Mac with an effort, suggested that Mattie go and collect some clothing, more underwear, or anything from her room. A totally undeceived Mattie said knowingly, "Yeah, what you mean is you want to talk to Jen."

The two older women remained at the table, neither speaking until Jen said tentatively and with a note of concern in her voice, "Ma'am...?"

"Don't, Petty Officer." Despite the imperative, Mac's voice was listless and dull.

"No, ma'am."

"Tomorrow morning, Petty Officer," Mac continued in a monotone, "I shall be out of the office. I shall probably be gone all day. I need to call Commander Coleman, and tell her that she will be in charge. Check with her first thing that she has received that message. I shall need you to cancel all my appointments for tomorrow. I believe the first is at oh-eight-thirty hours. I don't know when I will be able to re-schedule. I will let you know tomorrow, either personally, or by message what my future plans will entail. In the meantime Petty Officer, attend to your duties."

A puzzled and worried Jen replied, "Aye, aye ma'am". She had heard the Colonel angry, she had heard her almost reduced to tears, she had heard her determined, but she had never before heard such a tone of hopelessness in the Colonel's voice.

The return of Mattie with a gym bag slung across her shoulders prevented Jen from trying to find out what was wrong or offering comfort. Jen was quite prepared to risk the Colonel's wrath by persisting in her inquiries, or 'pushing her luck', as Harm had told her, and by refusing to stay quiet when ordered. She had done it before with Admiral, General and Colonel, but always at work, and certainly not in front of the senior officer's family.

On leaving Pacific Avenue both Mattie and Jen were quiet. As Jen piloted the Escort west towards the Navy Medical Centre, Mattie said to her quietly, "Jen I know you don't like talking while you're driving, but can we, please? I'm worried about Mac."

"I will if you really want to Mattie, but I'd rather we wait until we get there, it's only ten minutes. OK?"

On arrival at the medical centre, Jen realised that they had made a mistake. Sunday afternoon was obviously peak visiting hours, the parking lots were jammed full, and it took another fifteen minutes before she could ease the Escort, thanks again to Mattie's disabled badge into a parking slot.

Waiting for Mattie to clamber out of the passenger seat, Jen asked her if she wanted to talk about Mac first and then visit Fran, or the other way 'round? Mattie looked grave, "I know that Fran is your friend," she said slowly, feeling her way into her sentence, "and she's my friend too, kinda. I mean she is my friend, but she's my friend because she's your friend, and you're my friend. It's kinda difficult to put it into words; it's like this, I love you, but I like Fran?"

She floundered to a stop, but Jen had a flash of insight and realising that Mattie's intonation and the plea in her eyes were both asking for understanding, as she tried to prioritise her worries about two different people, put her arm around her shoulder and squeezed her tight.

"It's OK; go on, I'm listening."

"But the thing is, and I know she can be a real bi...er witch at times, and I can be a complete pain in the ass to her, I love Mac too. So... if you don't mind, can we talk about Mac first, for just five minutes, maybe?"

"Sure we can, c'mon let's see if we can find a table to sit at."

The table was found, in need of a wipe down Jen thought, but the cafeteria was operating almost at capacity, and although most of the visitors had eaten, the bus boys were still being run off their feet as they tried to clear the detritus.

"Jen, what's wrong with Mac?" asked Mattie as they took their seats. "She looked awful, and she looked like she'd been crying. You don't think anything's happened between her and Harm do you?" she added anxiously.

Jen, who over the last few days had been forming her opinion, decided that it was neither her place, nor the right time to voice her suspicions to Mattie, was relieved that the opening question, at least, was one to which she could give an honest answer, "No, positively not! Do you think Harm wouldn't tell you if there was?" she asked.

"Well, I don't know. I mean I hate to think it, but he's been in DC a long time now, away from me and Mac and all. And he's got so many friends there. There's that congresswoman he used to talk about, and the shrink, and..."

"And all the doctors and nurses at Bethesda, and Commander Manetti, and Lieutenant Graves, and Lieutenant Boyette..." Jen's smile took the sting out her words as she tried to tell Mattie that she need not worry about Harm and the women he knew in DC. "Besides," she continued, "he's staying with Lieutenant and Harriett Sims, do you really think he could get away with anything hinky and not have Harriett right on his six, not mention straight on the horn to Mac? And believe this, if she heard anything like that, Mac would have cut her own TAD orders and been on the next flight to DC, probably with a pair of rusty scissors in her purse!"

Mattie found it almost impossible not grin as she formed a mental picture of Mac chasing Harm around a bed and brandishing the scissors in threat.

"That's better," approved Jen. "No, honey, I'm sure it's nothing like that. Yeah, she's missing him, no doubt about that. But you are too, hey?" Mattie was forced to agree.

"No, I think that the Colonel's not feeling too good, and she doesn't know why. She told me today to cancel all her duties for tomorrow, and I guess she's going to see a doctor to get her tummy problem looked at. And once she knows what's wrong she'll be halfway back to being on line." Jen paused, her brow wrinkled in thought, "and, I'll tell you something else, that I just thought of. You just heard me reel off a list of Harm's women friends, but, do you know, I can't think of any women friends that the Colonel's got. I think that part of the problem is that she's lonely. Sometimes us gals need gals just to unload on, right? But the Colonel's got no-one; I've known her longer than anyone else out here, but I'm just a Petty Officer. Commander Coleman's on the same pay-grade, but Mac can't unload on her either, because she's the CO. Sometimes, I think, that the Colonel is so damn busy being the Colonel that she forgets she's a woman."

"She could talk to me?" Suggested Mattie.

"Ah, Honey, that's such a sweet idea. But it's just not going to happen. No, listen. There're two reasons it's not going to happen: first she's kinda your CO, she runs the house right? so she can't talk about stuff to you, no different than she can't talk to me about stuff. And second, I know you've been butting heads a lot lately, but like I said the other day, Mac loves you and she wants to protect you, so she'll keep any dark stuff from you as long as she can. That's what mom's do..." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Jen knew she had slipped up. "Oh, Mattie" she said, horrified at her own clumsiness, "honey, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to suggest..."

Mattie's blue eyes had filled with unshed tears, but she gulped, and dragged her knuckles across them, "Damn sun, reflected off a window," she said gruffly, and clearing her throat, she looked across at Jen and said, "It's OK, Jen, it's just me being a dumb ass. I can talk about mom now without getting mad, but when I think of anybody taking her place... it... it gets difficult, you know?"

Jen, thinking back to the way she felt when she lost her own mother silently gave thanks that her father had never tried to introduce a step-mother into her life, looked straight into Mattie's eyes and said, "I know, Mattie, believe it, honey, I know".

She held out her hand to Mattie, who instantly took it in a fierce grip. Blue eyes looked back into brown, and two friends shared a moment in time.

After a moment, Mattie let go of Jen's hand, and clearing her throat asked, "Are we good?"

"We'd damn' well better be!" A misty-eyed Jen answered.

The production of tissues, the blowing of noses and the gathering of purse and sticks that followed eased any momentary embarrassment there might have been, and as they stood, Mattie grinned at Jen and challenged her, "Last one to ICU buys the cocktails!"

"Only if you give me a start!" replied Jen.

Laughing over their shared absurdity the two headed for the hospital main doors, weaving their way round and through the other visitors. Entering the building they soon made their way to ICU where they were recognised by the rather plump Lieutenant Jen had met on their last visit, who said, "Good afternoon Petty Officer, I'm afraid your friend's no longer with us."

Jen stopped in shock and confusion, the Lieutenant seemed to be saying one thing but her facial expression said another. "I… I don't understand," she faltered. "I thought Fran was getting better…"

It was the Lieutenant's turn to look puzzled, and then as she passed her own words under mental review, her brow cleared and she gave a brief nervous laugh, "I'm sorry, Petty Officer, I'm afraid you've misunderstand me. I didn't mean that your friend had died, but that she's been moved back upstairs; back to Calvin Graham Ward." She peered intently at Jen, as if to make sure that her meaning had got through.

Relief flooded through Jen, followed swiftly by an incredulous anger. She opened her mouth to speak, but, perhaps fortunately for her naval career, no words came. Mattie, sensing that Jen was about to erupt, grabbed her by the arm and saying, "Thank you Lieutenant," guided Jen away from a potential confrontation of Vesuvian proportions.

As Mattie almost dragged her down the hall towards the elevator, Jen muttered, "What just happened there... That stupid cow, she made me think that Fran had died… Of all the half-assed ways to tell somebody good news…" Shaking her head, she followed Mattie's lead into the elevator, and slumped back against the wall as Mattie pressed the number for the next floor up.

Mattie looked at the still-muttering Jen and broke into laughter, "Oh, Jen… I know… it wasn't… funny. But you should… you should… have seen… your face… oh… I thought you… were… were going to… punch her out… there and then!" she managed between her giggles.

Jen stared uncomprehending at the giggling red-head and then her own cathartic giggles broke out as her inner tension dissipated. They were still giggling when the elevator whooshed to a halt and the door slid open. Finding themselves the subjects of astonished looks from people waiting to board the elevator, they looked at each other, and their giggles erupted afresh. Leaving the car, they side stepped around the astonished onlookers and headed off down the hall still, as Mattie later put it "laughing like hyenas!"

They were till bubbling with mirth on reaching the Nurses' station, where a slightly bemused Ensign directed them to Fran's room. Fran was sat up in bed, the ICU array of monitors and drip feeds no longer required. An oxygen tube was hooked over her ears and in position and a mask was near at hand in case of need. Fran looked much healthier, Jen thought, she was awake and seemed alert. Although still very pale, she no longer winced if she drew a deep breath, and when she greeted her friends with a cheerful, "Hi guys! Good to see ya!" there was no sign of the wheezing that had been heard before.

After a series of questions and answers about her health, and the promised books had been handed over, Jen settled down to bring her friend up to date with office events, not forgetting the saga of Lieutenant Simms, and, without discussion of any possible reasons for Mac's sickness, Jen's own story of 'Paws and Whiskers', a story that grew longer and more involved with each telling. The story of Lieutenant Tiner's reassignment was of no more than passing interest; Fran had never been assigned to JAG at Falls Church and didn't know him as either Yeoman or Lieutenant

Fran exclaimed suitably at the Simms story, and laughed at the deliberately ridiculous figure Jen claimed she had been. But then returning to more serious matters, she distractedly plucked at the blanket covering her legs and said, "It's great you guys coming to see me, and Dad and Mom are staying over another couple of days, but… I haven't seen Tim all weekend. I tried calling him today when I got back up her, but his 'phone's switched off. I thought maybe he got deployed, but they say the first/ninth is still in barracks. I guess he just isn't in to sick people.

Jen shared a look of concern with Mattie, and then leaning forward in her chair, she covered Fran's restless hand with her own saying, "Fran, honey, that ain't so. When you were really sick, he barely left your bed for two days straight. He just sat there and prayed and watched you sleeping and getting better. The nurse had to order him to go and wash up and grab a coffee once a day. He was so positive that you were going to get better and he was right, you have. But, I've got a little bit of bad news, no, don't panic, it's nothing serious, but we didn't tell you on Friday, because you were still a little bit out of it." Jen drew a breath, "While we were on our way up to ICU, we met Tim. He'd been busted by the MPs for being UA and was being taken back to barracks. I guess if you can't get hold of him, he's in the Brig."

Jen pulled a grimace of concern, and cast a swift sideways glance at Mattie, who was nodding her head, whether in support or approval, Jen couldn't tell, as she turned back to watch Fran take in the news, and as her eyes, a lighter blue than Mattie's, began to swim, she added "Hush, Fran, hush don't cry. UA's not that big a deal, you've logged enough case files to know that."

Fran hiccupped and smiled through her tears, "I'm not crying Jen, I'm so happy he'd do that for me!"

Fran's logic totally baffled Jen and she exchanged a puzzled look with Mattie who seemed equally bewildered by Fran's reactions. But boldly stepping into the breach, she diverted Fran's attention by indicating the television in the corner of the room and asking, "Does that thing work?"

Fran grinned, picking up on the reference to the joke she had made about the ICU monitor. "Sure does and they even found a remote," she answered, indicating the handset on the nightstand.

"So what do they let you watch?" was Mattie's next question.

It was a question that sparked a discussion about various TV programmes, the titles of some of which Jen had never heard, and descended into soap minutiae that revealed that Mattie had a worrying depth and breadth of knowledge of afternoon soaps. Although Jen detested soap operas, she took genuine pleasure in listening to her friends' enjoyment as they talked about who was doing what to whom and how they were doing it. The conversation could have gone on for hours, had not Jen become worried that Fran was maybe getting a little tired. She looked a little pale, and sometimes paused a few seconds between sentences. On the pretext that they had to get going, she managed to break into a full bore discussion of a Dr McDreamy's multiple charms to remind Mattie that they were due at the Camerons' at seven o'clock.

Fran pouted and claimed to be jealous, pretending to disbelieve that Jan and Mattie were just having dinner at a friend's place. Jen looked at her friend, both pleased and relieved by her improved spirits which, despite her tiredness, seemed to indicate that Fran was well on the way to recovery. "Fran, this couple we're having dinner with, they're the new people from downstairs, the ones you told me about, the doctor and the cop,?"

"Yes…?"

"Well, the night you got ill, he's the guy I called out, and he's the guy that got you in here so quickly. So I want to get this one here," nudging Mattie, "into the shower, and then see if she's got anything fit to wear"

"Uh-huh. Is he a McDreamy?"

"No," interjected Mattie, "he's more of a McSteamy!"

Before the Television discussion could start again, Jen dragged Mattie to her feet saying, "Come on, you, we do got to go! Fran, we'll see you tomorrow, all being well. You get lots of sleep, lots to drink and get better real quick," and then in an exaggerated Virginia drawl, "Y'all hear, naow?"

"Get out of here!" chuckled Fran, as the two waved goodbye and headed back down the hall.

As they left Fran's room, Mattie looked shrewdly at Jen and said, "I thought you said it was casual for dinner, like jeans and T-shirts? so what's the rush? And what this 'fit to wear' BS. Or did you just want to get away from Fran and her soap addiction?"

"No, neither really," Jen replied, "I just thought that Fran was looking a little tired. It's her first day out of ICU, and I didn't want to her have a setback." and then almost under her breath said "Damn!"

Following the direction of Jen's gaze Mattie saw Poppy and Mutti Neumann approaching from the direction of the elevators, and taking her cue from Jen asked in a whisper, "What's wrong? I thought you liked them?"

"I do, but Fran needs to rest now and then!" and adding in conversational tones, "Mr and Mrs Neumann, it's good to see you again! I'm sorry, we can't stay and visit with you; we've just left Fran, and I'm afraid we may have tired her out. It's my fault I should have dragged Mattie away earlier, but I didn't know they were both TV addicts!"

"Oh, Jennifer, Is that you? You look so different when you are not in uniform! I would not you recognise but for this one's curls" Mutti responded indicating Mattie, "and" she added lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "I am sure your visits my Francine do nothing but good! She yesterday to us said that she so enjoyed them! And my Francine does so love her television; and me I do not just have the time to watch with her, so it is not often she can with someone else gossip about them!

Jen, fretting in a fever of impatience to get away paid hardly any attention to Mutti's stream of chatter, but finally managing to make their excuses, she was about to drag Mattie away when one of Mutti's comments, an apparent _non sequitur_, struck a chord with Jen, "Jennifer, you, your hair you should always wear long! It looks nice like that! It is shame you have to for work tie it up!"

Mutti's comment also pleased Mattie, who as they finally closed the elevator doors behind them said, "I told you it looks nicer when it's not in that dumb plait!"

Jen grinned wickedly, relived that her attention had been diverted from Miles Caldwell, to which it had been drawn by Mutti's comment, and gently taking hold of a handful of Mattie's curls, said, "And what do you think is going to happen to this lot, when you get to the academy? You'll have to dress it in a plait, or cut it off - maximum length from the scalp - four inches!"

Mattie blanched, and a hand went protectively to her hair. "O crap!" she exploded, "I never even thought of that!" and glared accusingly at Jen who again was threatening to burst into uncontrollable giggles.

It seemed that harmony between the two was fully restored, any restraint resulting from their recent arguments dissipated, with the result that the drive back to Ocean Beach was in relaxed contrast to the somewhat tense trip earlier in the day to Lemon Grove. As Jen remarked to Fran, as she pulled up to the kerbside outside the Third Corner Wine Shop on the corner of Bacon Street, the visit to Fran had done them a power of good. This somewhat elliptical comment puzzled Mattie, who asked Jen what she meant. Jen merely smiled, and assuming a superior manner, shook her head, and climbed out of the car to dash into the Wine Shop, leaving in the vehicle an intrigued Mattie who protested that she wasn't being fair!

Jen returned in a few moments and passing a tissue-wrapped bottle to Mattie, cautioned her not to drop it during the next couple of minutes' drive home.

On returning to the apartment, Jen shoved Mattie in the direction of the shower, saying "Paws and Whiskers!" a remark that drew a giggle from Mattie and an acknowledging wave of her hand as Jen, with one eye on the clock, shouted after her, "Use a shower cap!" Jen had already decided on her outfit, a simple short-sleeved white blouse, cut very much like one of Mac's uniform blouses and a blue, ankle length wrap-around skirt in an aloha pattern, and as she took Mattie's place in the shower said, "Wear your green top and tan pants, Mattie, it's a bit more respectful than jeans!"

Although Jen loved her hair, she was the first to admit that it took some time to dry after shampooing, time she did not have this evening and tucking it up under a shower cap she gave silent thanks to its inventor.

Showered, if not shampooed, as Mattie whispered to Jen, the latter clutching the recently purchased bottle of wine, they presented themselves at the Camerons' door. Tony and Sally welcomed them with compliments on their punctuality, but as Jen introduced Mattie, Sally, with a slight expression of dismay on her face said, "I'm so sorry, we're both so stupid! We've both seen Mattie around over the last couple of days, but we didn't put two and two together and realise that it was you she was staying with! I'm sorry but apart from wine, all we've got is bottled water, unless," she asked doubtfully, her eyes going back and forth between Jen and Mattie, "you drink wine?"

"No, no thank you, water's fine for me," replied Mattie, and feeling that an explanation was maybe necessary, she added "Mac's a recovering alcoholic, so it doesn't come my way, much. One time I had a couple of beers…" and then remembering that Sally was a police officer, she stumbled to a halt, and then slightly red faced, continued, "but I didn't much like the taste."

Sally smiled and said "In that case, I don't have to bust you for under-age drinking!"

Tony's curious, "Who's Mac?" necessitated a somewhat expurgated account of Mattie's life, both she and Jen, by unspoken agreement omitting any mention of Mac's military service. The conversation naturally included Harm's name, and when it was mentioned Sally's voice became neutral and she commented unenthusiastically, "Yeah, I know the name."

Before Mattie could leap in with all guns blazing, Jen quickly changed the subject, and asking what was that beautiful smell, could she give Sally a hand with final preparations for dinner? Sally's grateful acceptance - she was a little embarrassed by her reaction to Harm's name - was drowned out and overcome by Mattie's warning that on no account should Jen be let anywhere near cooked food until it was put on the plate in front of her!

Jen protested that Mattie was being unduly harsh and ignoring her successes, which led to Mattie enumerating, in great and exaggerated detail some of Jen's more spectacular culinary failures.

The dinner was, Sally apologized, just plain roast chicken rice and salad, and just fresh fruit for dessert, saying with a grimace of remembered discomfort, that it was only the last few days that she's been able to keep anything down.

Mattie's innocent, "Yeah, there's been a lot of that going round; Mac's been sick, and Jen had a tummy bug last week," brought a warning glance from Jen, but produced a peal of laughter from Sally and an absurdly proud grin from Tony.

Reaching his hand out to cover his wife's hand which was resting on the table, he smiled at Mattie, and said, "No, it's not a tummy bug."

Jen who had noticed that Sally's glass contained water instead of wine, put the pieces of the puzzle together and exclaimed, "Oh, congratulations!" and then asked curiously, "Is that why you wear a jacket? I thought it might be because of the gun-belt," adding in explanation, "I saw it yesterday morning when you were getting into your car."

Sally grimaced, "Yes", she answered, "to cover up the bump. It's only a couple of weeks now, until they take me off active investigations and chain me to a desk for the next six months!"

Mattie sat in silence, while she tried to work out what had just been said, and then to Jen's embarrassment asked bluntly Sally "Are you pregnant? Wow! Cool!" and then turned to Jen with an excited expression on her face, "Jen! Are you…?"

Jen laughed, "No I am not! No little nephew or niece for you this year Mattie. At least not from me! That was just a plain and simple piece of stupidity - and laziness on my part!" she waited to see what Mattie's reaction would be. She wasn't sure if Mattie had made the connection between Sally's reference to morning sickness and Mac's own nausea, and prayed that she wouldn't ask the same question about Mac. Jen felt a sense of relief when Mattie instead turned to Sally and asked, "Do you know what it is?" and on being told no, asked didn't they want to know?

"Well, Mattie," said Sally, "it's a bit too early yet for an accurate sonogram. The earliest will be in another three weeks, and that's likely to be only about forty percent accurate. But anyway, I don't think we want to know before the baby's born, just so long's it's healthy. And Jen, if I can, I'd like change the subject for a couple of minutes? I get bored talking about me all the time. But if I'm stepping on thin ice her, tell me to back off. Blame it on the job, if you like, but I thought I picked up a contradiction?"

Intrigued by this gambit, Jen raised an eyebrow, and gave a slight nod, signaling Sally to go on.

"Well, this might sound odd; but I'm sure you said that you had a young friend visiting with you.?"

"That's right, I did," answered Jen, reaching out a hand to ruffle Mattie's hair, "and here she is!"

"But, you just said that you weren't going to give her a niece or a nephew this year. Well, wouldn't that make you her sister?"

"Well normally, yes, but like we said earlier, it's…" Jen began,

"complicated," Mattie finished for her

Jen smiled and continued, "When Mattie and I shared an apartment, I was officially there as a room-mate. But Harm got called away a few times on duty, and I had to step up to the plate and take over responsibility." She grinned wickedly at Mattie, "There was this one time, when I even got called in to see one of her teachers!"

"So," Mattie chimed in, "although we were roomies, Jen was more to me than that. She covered my… she had my back when I got into trouble with Harm, but she also told him when I needed to straighten and fly right…" she scowled at Jen "and one day lady, you an' me are going to have sit down at talk about that! She let me try on her things. She had some great clothes! She helped me with buying my first bra. Oh my God, I think at that time I would rather have died than go into a store on my own and ask for one! And then there were…" she stopped, and turning red muttered, "… other girl things."

Jen, Sally and Tony all laughed at Mattie's evident embarrassment, despite which she gamely carried on.

"Do you remember, Jen, when I first started dating, and you wanted to tell me about Ess Ee Ex? And I told you about Harm trying to have _that_ conversation with me? Oh," she turned to Sally, "You would have loved it! Jen was bad enough about it, but I thought Harm was going to die!"

"Yes, agreed Jen. And do you remember what you told me about the results of _that _conversation?"

"No, what did I say?"

"You said to me, that you thought he had learned a lot!"

Another burst of laughter filled the room.

"So, we weren't just roomies, but although she looked after me, Jen wasn't really like a mom. So we decided she was a kinda-big-sister. I don't know, maybe what you'd call a substitute sister? No, that's not the word I mean, it's… it's what they say, like, if you were having your baby for someone else?"

"A surrogate?" suggested Tony

"Yeah, that's it!" Mattie cried, pleased that she'd made herself understood. "We were going… well I was going to say we were half-sisters, until Jen told me what that meant. And a lot of times, it's just easier to say we are sisters, than try and explain the whole guardian and room-mate thing. And most of the time, it doesn't matter, and it's not really lying, it's a kinda short-hand thing."

"So," Mattie, Tony asked as he made to top up Jen's wine glass, and offer she refused by placing her hand over her glass, "have you given any thought what you want to do when you finish High School?"

"Yes. I'm going to Annapolis! I'm going to the academy!"

"Not law school?" Tony persisted

"No way! Fly navy!" was Mattie's enthusiastic response.

"You should have taken that bet Sal," Tony grinned at his wife.

"What bet was that?" asked Mattie eagerly

"It was a sucker bet, Mattie. He tried to make it in the kitchen while he was opening the wine! Tony said he thought you'd want to be a lawyer, but I said navy. Like I told him, it was a no-brainer!"

"What made you so certain?" asked Mattie.

"Well both your guardian and your kinda-sister - I like that word - are navy, but only your guardian is a lawyer."

"Unless, she decides to follow him all the way, and becomes a navy lawyer." Jen chimed in.

"Not a chance!" grinned Mattie, "I'm going to be a jet jockey!"

"A what?" asked a bemused Sally.

"Mattie wants to be a fighter pilot." Jen beamed proudly

Slightly uncomfortable with all the attention being paid to her, Mattie squirmed in her chair. Tony and Sal were pretty good folks she thought, but they sure do ask a lot of questions. Not sure how to make a graceful exit, she gently kicked Jen under the table, and nodded slightly towards the Cameron's wall clock. Gratefully she watched Jen absorb the hint.

"Oh my God, Mattie, look at the time! Tony, Sally I'm so sorry. I've got to get her to bed, it's nearly ten, and it's a school night. I hate to just eat and run and leave you with all the clearing up! Next time, you come up to us! Our apartment's not quite as big as this one, but we can squeeze us all in somehow. It was a great dinner Sal, thank you!"

The thanks were declined and goodnights were exchanged, Tony and Sally standing at their apartment door until Jen and Mattie crossed the hall to the elevator. As they entered the car, Jen reached out and hugged Mattie's shoulder. "You know," she said, "I was really proud of you in there tonight!" Mattie gave her a questioning look.

"Well, when Sally mentioned Harm's name, she didn't exactly sound like she was his greatest fan. I still get the cold chills when I remember how you tore into the Dragon Lady in Falls Church when you thought she disrespected him. And for an awful second I thought you were going to do the same tonight. But you didn't, and you helped Sally out of what could have been an awkward spot by telling her all those wicked lies about my cooking. Hey! That reminds me, who told you about the huevos rancheros?"

Mattie grinned, pleased but a little embarrassed by Jen's praise, "Oh, Sally's OK, I like her. Anyway she didn't trash talk Harm, she just sounded like she didn't know him. Besides, you can't fight with people when they've invited you to their homes. And who says those stories about your cooking were lies? What about your meatloaf? As for the huevos rancheros, that would have been Harm!"

Once back in their own apartment, the two sprawled on the couch in relaxed attitudes; just absorbing the mood and sitting quietly until after a few minutes Mattie yawned and said that she was ready for her bed, even if Jen was not. Jen smiled and tilted her head towards the bathroom, "Go ahead, but don't be all night. I'm rack-ready too". While Mattie completed her preparations a yawning and pleasantly tired Jen checked that her uniform was ready for the morning before changing into her pyjamas, and having brushed her teeth and laid out a singlet and her shorts for the morning, was just about to get into bed, when Mattie knocked on her door.

At Jen's "Come in." The teenager, wrapped in Fran's bathrobe, indicated Jen's bed and asked, Can I sit down?"

Jen nodding assent, looked at Mattie, and while she was not exactly subdued, something seemed to be troubling her.

After some minutes of silence, Jen's patience was rewarded, when Mattie said, "Look, Tony and Sally seem real nice, but I didn't want to say anything downstairs, 'cos they don't know her, and it's none of their never-mind, and I'm not really sure I should say anything now… But Jen, do you think Mac might be pregnant too? If she is, that would be great, and if she isn't… well, that's OK too, I guess. But, Sally seemed so happy, and well… you saw Mac today, she wasn't a happy lady. And Jen, she seemed so sick and…do you think that maybe I ought to go home and look after her?"

Jen looked fondly at the troubled Mattie. Reaching out she gently brushed a stray strand of hair away from Mattie's face, "Honey, I would love you just for saying that, if I never did before." She sighed. "Mac's a very private person, and like I said this afternoon, there's not anyone she knows that she feels she _can_ talk to." Except Harm, she thought, dammit Harm! Mac needs you, come home! "When she's ready, I guess she'll tell us what's happening. But until then, just do as you've been doing, don't talk to anybody else about any private issues, and we'll both keep a discreet watch out for her, OK ?"7

Mattie turned her face towards Jen, but not really content with the advice said, "If that's what you think, then OK. But, I'm worried about her Jen. Maybe we should call Harm?"

Jen once again put her arm around Mattie's shoulder, and wordlessly hugged her tight. Of course you're worried, me too, Mattie, me too, she thought.

"No, Mattie, I'm sure Mac's already talked to him, and if they thought he needed to be home, then he'd have called and said he was on his way."

Mac was tired to the point of exhaustion. She'd tried to get some sleep during the afternoon after Jen and Mattie had left to visit Fran, but her attempts at resting had been disturbed by the need to answer several calls of nature, and to cope with a further two bouts of nausea. The evening had been occupied at her home-office desk, where she had typed and printed several letters. Now she sighed to herself wearily, and sealed the last of the envelopes that lay in front of her. One was addressed to Commander Coleman, and contained a full briefing on what Mac wanted to happen on Monday. The second, attached to the first was addressed to Lieutenant R Simms USN and contained a formal letter from Mac and a list of the options open to both of them. The third letter was for PO1 J Coates, briefing her on what was needed and the fourth was addressed to Harmon Rabb, in care of Mac's attorney.

Letters sealed, Mac climbed the stairs and into bed, where curling up into a ball, she quietly cried herself to sleep.


	10. 08 October 2007

**Monday 08 October 2007**

Mac slept soundly, her body in desperate need of rest. Waking, she mentally checked the time, oh-six-eighteen. She had a moment of irritation, she hadn't meant to sleep this late. Until she remembered that she wasn't going to work that morning. Lying still in bed she reviewed the steps she had and hadn't taken the previous evening. The mental effort made her realise that the unusual lethargy of the last couple of days had dissipated. It seemed she could almost think clearly now. She had forgotten to call Faith Coleman and her Yeoman, Coates should be up by now she reasoned, and sitting up in bed she waited, unconsciously tensing, for the nausea to strike. Warily, alert for the first warning signs, she stood and slowly walked towards the dresser, on which lay her cell 'phone, hooked up to the charger. She decided to move the charger and plug it into the wall socket near her bed, at the moment she needed a phone to hand instead of a convenient bedside lamp, besides, the dresser was on the other side of the room from the bathroom door. If she needed to get from the phone to the bathroom it would mean an extra three paces. She grinned wryly, and that might be an extra second she didn't have. Looking down at the thick pile bedroom carpet, she gave a mental groan, policing body fluids off that was not a job she would enjoy.

Cell 'phone in hand, she checked the speed dial list for Coates cell 'phone number and pressed the call button. She could hear the ring tone, but there was no reply, and after what seemed an age the call was broken as unanswered. Frustrated she scrolled through her in 'phone directory, checking that she did not have Coates' landline number. Failing to find that she determined that that was one failure she could rectify today. Sitting on the edge of her bed, needing to get hold of her Yeoman and not being able to do so was a frustrating experience. Coates could be insubordinate and independently minded, but in addition to being meticulous in her work she was always dependable, well until the last couple of weeks anyway, and when Mac had ever needed her for something either for work or involving Mattie she had always been just a shout away. As the name came into her head, Mac silently cursed herself as an idiot. Pressing the number three button on her speed-dial, she waited.

"H'lo," Mattie's voice was indistinct.

"Mattie, it's me, Mac, are you alright?"

"Sure, wha's up?"

"You sound funny,"

"Oh, I had both hands full and my toothbrush in my mouth."

"Oh, OK. Where's Petty Officer Coates? I've been calling her."

"She's gone for her run, Mac. It's our morning routine: she goes for a run, and I hit the bathroom so I'm done for when she gets back."

"What time will that be?"

"Uh… she's usually back by about a quarter to seven."

"Uh… OK, ask her to call me the minute she gets in; it's important. Have you got that?"

"Mac… are you OK?" Mattie's voice had taken on an edge.

"Mattie, I'm fine. I just need to talk to Coates about the office, before she gets there this morning. Just ask her to call me. On my cell 'phone Please?"

"OK, Mac. Take care, see you soon!"

"Bye, Mattie."

Mac remained seated on her bed. It seemed that perhaps if she didn't move, she could remain nausea-free. That was ridiculous; she couldn't spend the rest of her life glued to one spot. Slipping the cell 'phone into her pyjama jacket pocket, she cautiously stood and walked into the bathroom. The bucket of cold water containing yesterday's pyjamas stood under the wash basin, and wrinkling her nose in distaste, she faced up to the need for remedying that situation.

Whether it was the faint residual odour rising from the bucket, or the thought of having to deal with the soiled clothing, or from some other cause, Mac's stomach rose in rebellion and again she was forced to her knees in front of the toilet. Unsteadily regaining her feet she comforted herself with the thought that at least she'd avoided having to launder another pair of pyjamas. Mac decided she would wait for Coates to call her before she showered, it would otherwise be a certainty that if she stepped into the shower should no more than get wet before the 'phone rang.

Sitting on the edge of the bath tub, she decided to occupy the time by mentally cataloging what had happened to her, so that she could coherently describe her symptoms to the doctor. She had barely started to compose her list when, exactly as she anticipated, her cell 'phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Good morning ma'am, Coates. You wanted me to call you, ma'am?"

"Yes, thank you, Petty Officer. How was your run?"

"Oh, fine ma'am, thank you. Colonel, are you OK? Your voice sounds kinda funny."

"Funny? Oh, no, it's just that I'm in the bathroom. But what I wanted you to call me for is this: After you've taken Mattie to school, call in here will you please. I've got a couple of letters I want you to deliver for me, and I've got some written instructions for you also."

"Understood, ma'am. I'll be there by oh-eight-hundred ma'am.

"Thank you, I'll call Commander Coleman, and let her know what's happening so that she doesn't think that you are UA."

"Thank you ma'am. Is there anything else ma'am?"

"No, thank you Petty Officer."

"Yes ma'am."

Mac ended the call and again scrolled through her in-phone directory until she reached the number she needed. "Hello, Medical Centre? …Thank you, pass me through to Obstetrics, please. Hello? Good morning, this is Lieutenant Colonel Mackenzie JAG Corps; I would like to make a doctor's appointment for today please… The morning would be better for me… Ten-thirty hours? Yes, that's fine, thank you. No… I don't think that will be necessary… I shall be driving myself… Fine, thank you."

Mac sat fuming silently at the phone, why is it she thought, that doctors and nurses insist on treating perfectly intelligent women as if they are idiots when all those women are doing is fulfilling the perfectly natural function for which they have evolved?

Her own thoughts brought themselves stumbling to a stop; instinctively she clasped her hands over her flat stomach. Perfectly natural, she thought, maybe, maybe, it might not be so bad to be pregnant after all. She had always wanted a family, and that desire, she now discovered had only been stemmed, and not stifled, by the warnings the doctors back at Bethesda had given her. Her wish for a family had been partially filled, first by Chloe, and now, she acknowledged ruefully, by Mattie. She and Harm had even discussed adoption, but her own child? She had better not allow herself to get too excited yet. First she didn't even know that she was pregnant, second, there was still the risk of some, if not all, of the complications she had read about in the medical literature. So much depended on what the doctors had to say to her.

Jen had returned from her run to find a troubled Mattie waiting for her at the breakfast counter. Feeling sure that Mattie would sooner or later tell her what was concerning her, Jen decided to let the teenager tell her in her own time, merely calling a cheerful "Good morning!" as she passed though the lounge area. She did not have long to wait, she had barely made it to her own room and had started to strip off her running kit, when Mattie knocked on the door. "Jen, Mac called while you were out, she wants you to call her back ASAP." Jen acknowledged the message, but then stopped what she was doing as Mattie, somewhat reluctantly added, "Jen, she sounded real strange."

Jen looked closely at Mattie, she didn't just look troubled or worried, she looked scared. Sitting on the edge of the bed she said, "Come here, honey, sit down. Tell me, how did she seem strange?" again Jen reached out to gently brush stray strands of hair from Mattie's face.

"I don't know really… she seemed remote… far away… like she was speaking down a long tube, or something. Jen, it was really weird, I'm afraid… the way she was yesterday, you know? You said she couldn't talk anyone… and… and…"

Unwilling or unable to say the words that frightened her, she looked at Jen, her eye, wide with fear and brimming with tears.

Jen was shocked. She, too, knew that Mac had been dispirited yesterday, but it had never crossed her mind that she might be suicidal, which was obviously what had terrified Mattie. Choosing her words carefully, she said, "Mattie I can see you're scared. And I can understand why you're scared. It upset me to see Mac like that yesterday, too. But tell me, Mattie, what is it that people see most when they see Mac?"

"I dunno, a woman, a Marine, a lawyer? I just don't know, Jen."

"Well, Mattie you are right. They see a woman Marine lawyer. Do you know what that means that they see?"

"Nooo."

"They see a woman that's made it through some of the toughest experiences a woman can go through. They see a strong woman. Mattie have you ever seen the Colonel back down from anything? Or have you ever seen her dodge a fight? Or give up on anything?"

"No. I guess."

"So what makes you think that she's going to give up now? Whatever this thing is that's troubling it, she'll beat it, Mattie!"

Now standing in the shower Jen thought that she'd managed to offer Mattie some comfort, and the girl had left her to shower in peace. But Jen's brain was operating in overdrive. Yes, she hoped Mac would beat whatever it was that had got her tail in a twist. She'll either beat it, had been her second thought, or go down swinging. She hadn't said that to Mattie. Then she realised she was angry at Mac. OK, the Colonel was a private person, and maybe felt isolated. OK she had a right to protect her privacy, but she had no right to scare the people who loved her, no right to scare Mattie, no right to scare Harm and no right to scare herself. Her hands had been keeping time with her racing thoughts, moving faster and faster as she massaged the shampoo into her scalp, but they stopped abruptly, as she stopped to analyse her thoughts and feelings. Yes, she thought, after a few seconds, she guessed she did love Mac, in a peculiar, rather formal sense. But she was still angry with her for scaring Mattie. It was time she thought, to kick some Marine butt… but how? That was the question…

Showered and dressed, Jen sat down to allow Mattie to plait her hair for her. Now was the best time to call the Colonel, the few minutes each morning when her body wasn't constantly on the move.

"Hello?"

"Good morning ma'am, Coates. You wanted me to call you, ma'am?"…

The call concluded, Jen sat in silent thought for a while, ignoring Mattie's "Jen?" The abstracted expression on her face as well as the way her teeth gently nibbled her lower lip were sufficient clues to tell Mattie that Jen was thinking furiously.

Mattie deeply respected Jen's street-wise quick wits and instincts and her ability to think on her feet, so was content to sit and wait for whatever plan, plot or idea that Jen might come up with. She had gained a certain measure of comfort from Jen's description of Mac's character, as a strong woman and a fighter, but could not, just yet, completely banish the cold, sick feeling of dread in her stomach.

Mattie, Jen thought, had been right. There was a peculiar, hollow sound to Mac's voice, but she had explained that away as bathroom acoustics. It was possible, Jen conceded, even given the recent delicate state of Mac's stomach, probable, that she was spending a lot of time in the bathroom. But she felt, Mac still needed to come out and tell people if she was ill… but then Mac had never admitted she needed help in anything. Her need to permanently be in control and to constantly prove herself had on a couple in a couple of cases come damn' near to getting herself killed. Mostly, thought Jen, with bitterness, when she'd got herself mixed up in Clayton Webb's dangerous and disgusting world!

Jen realised that she was working herself up into a dangerously explosive temper, and drew several deep breaths. She had an idea of how she might let Mac know that she had crossed a line, but it was going to be risky.

Giving herself a mental shake she broke off her thoughts and smiled at Mattie. "Have we got time for breakfast?" she asked.

Mattie gave her a disgusted look, "It's on the counter it's cold and it's all that you're getting!"

Jen looked at the plate on the counter with a silent sigh of relief, from Mattie's scolding; she had half expected to see congealed eggs and bacon on the plate. Instead all she saw were two slices of toast, looking forlorn. But, she admitted silently, as she took a bite, Mattie was right, it was definitely cold.

The cold toast was, happily, washed down with hot coffee, so feeling not quite so ill used as she might have been, Jen ushered Mattie out of the apartment, into the elevator and out into the car. Pulling up outside the school, Mattie gathered her school bag and sticks, but before clambering out of the car, she turned to Jen and said, "This sucks!"

"What, this whole thing with Mac?" asked Jen, her mind concentrated on what she was sure would be an unpleasant confrontation.

"No! Having to get to school so early!"

Jen was concerned that Mattie could switch focus so quickly after having been so worried so recently, and said, "Whoa there Just a second! Mattie aren't you still worried about Mac?"

Mattie looked at her with an expression of absolute trust, "No Jen, I'm not worried any more. I don't like what's happening to Mac, but I can't do anything about it. And you said you'd fix it. So, what have I got to worry about?" and with a grin and a cheery wave, she stumped through the school gates and headed for the main entrance steps, where despite her protests at the earliness of the hour, there were more than a few students hanging around.

Jen sat motionless behind the wheel for a few seconds not quite able to believe what she had just heard. How could Mattie have so much faith in her? The only super being she knew of was Harm, and that was only because Mac had once, when frustrated with the stupid risks he took, called him that! That was about the same time, she remembered, that Bud Roberts had stepped on that mine.

Jen shook her head, there was no use in procrastinating, time to face an angry lioness - and if the lioness wasn't already angry, then she most certainly would be when Jen had finished provoking her!

Mac had initially decided not wear her uniform for her visit to the MedCen, she didn't really want people to see a Marine Lieutenant Colonel heading into the obstetrics department, but when she couldn't make up her mind what to wear, she decided to wear the uniform after all. The front opening blouse would allow easy access to her abdomen should the doctor require it. And if closer examination was needed it was a simple outfit to slip out of. As a consequence of her hesitation, she was still buttoning her blouse when Jen's knock on the front door announced her arrival. Stepping down the stairs, Mac noticed that her uniform blouse, admittedly tailored to a snug fit was definitely showing signs of straining to fasten over her bust.

"Come in Petty Officer, this won't take more than a minute."

"Thank you ma'am."

"Now here are the letters, I need delivered. Both these two, for Commander Coleman and Lieutenant Simms you can deliver to Commander Coleman, this one is for you, it's just some additional instructions about… well you'll see when you read it, and this one…"

She paused, considering the contents of the envelope. She written that letter last, when she had been worrying herself all day. Now in the light of a fresh morning, it might, probably would benefit from a re-reading with fresh eyes and a clearer mind. She tapped it thoughtfully into the palm of her left hand, and concluded, "This one, I have changed my mind about. I'll re-draft it before I send it. Thank you Coates, that will be all."

Jen had been listening carefully to the Colonel's voice, not so much as what she was saying, but the sound of the words. She had also been subtly inspecting her with her eyes. Granted, the Colonel looked a bit better this morning, but that might be due just to the uniform; she still looked tired and grey, and she did not sounds as clear, or precise or alert as she normally did."

"Yes, ma'am" replied Jen, standing her ground.

"Was there something else, Petty Officer?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, spit it out, Petty Officer, I haven't got all day."

"Well, ma'am, it would be obvious to a blind man, that you haven't been one hundred per cent fit over the last week, ma'am."

"That, Petty Officer, is none of your damn' business!"

"With all due respect, ma'am, that is not entirely true. I am your Yeoman, and as such you tell me a great deal that you do not necessarily wish to become general knowledge in the office. Similarly, in the course of my duties I become aware of things that happen and things people say in the office that are not necessarily meant to come to your attention. I have to filter all that information and I have to use my judgement as to whether or not the information I receive outside, if you like, the normal chain of command needs to travel further up or down that chain of command. I cannot exercise fully informed judgement unless I know what effect my decisions will have on the people I speak to. Ma'am, under present conditions, I cannot tell how you will react to anything I might need to pass on to you."

Mac felt a flicker of anger. A feeling she welcomed, other than fright and despair it was the first emotion she had felt since the previous week. Maintaining a level tone, she thought, she said,

"That will be quite enough Petty Officer! I have never heard in all my years of service such unmitigated crap! Are you trying to snow me with irrelevancies?"

"No ma'am, it's just that I'm not as capable as some of putting together good arguments on the run, ma'am! Ma'am, permission to speak freely ma'am?"

Mac stared open-mouthed at her rebellious Yeoman. She had just delivered a strongly worded reprimand specifically designed to make the impertinent younger woman keep quiet, and instead she was now requesting permission for would undoubtedly be further impertinence, probably even insubordination. Very well, she'd give Coates enough rope to hang herself. And tomorrow when she went back to work, she'd cut orders sending Coates to Holy Loch… or… Alaska and start looking for a Yeoman who knew his job and his place!

"Very well, Petty Officer! Permission granted!" Mac's voice had become icy with anger, and spots of colour flared in her cheeks.

Jen, fought down the urge to gulp, but was relieved to see, at last, some reaction. Anything was better than that terrible lack of spirit she has seen over the last three days.

"Ma'am, I spoke just now on the professional level, but now I need to speak on the personal. I don't know what's wrong with you (but I can guess, she thought silently), and I don't really care! But I do care about the effect it's having on you. It's obvious that you're not your normal self; and if it's obvious to me it's obvious to Mattie. I know you're a very private person, ma'am, and you like to build walls and keep people out. But ma'am, you have a family now and they need you to be able to leave a gap in the wall!"

Mac was so angry she could hardly speak. "That's it, Petty Officer! You're done! Get out!"

"No ma'am! Not until I've said one thing more!"

"Petty Officer, that's insubordination!"

"Yes, ma'am. Ma'am, this morning when I got home from my exercise, I found Mattie waiting for me. She's been scared for you all weekend, but this morning she was terrified! She'd just spoken to you on the 'phone and she said you sounded so strange that she thought that you were going to kill yourself! I had a helluva job to comfort and reassure her! Do what you like with me, file charges, re-assign me! I don't care. Mattie does care and she needs to know what's going on. She's already lost one mother. She's terrified of losing another! Talk to her Colonel!"

Mac was stunned into silence, not just by what Jen had said, but the way in which she had said it. She had heard somewhere that Coates had a temper, but she had never thought it might be directed against her. As she stood temporarily speechless, the meaning of Jen's words penetrated. Her jaw dropped and she said falteringly in a questioning tone, "Mattie? Mattie?" and suddenly her face crumpled and she stood there not seeing Jen, giving in to loud, gut-deep sobs, so violent that with each sob her body convulsed.

Jen was horrified for a second, and then anger gone and sympathy welling in its place, she stepped forward and just as Mac's knees gave, Jen put her arms around her, holding and supporting Mac at the same time. Mac turned her face into Jen's shoulder and cried as if her heart was breaking, Jen held her tight and rocked her gently back and forwards, making nonsensical soothing noises, much as she had the other evening comforted a sobbing Mattie. For the moment they were no longer Colonel and Petty Officer, they were just two women, the one clinging on to the other.

Mac's sobs gradually lessened in ferocity and eventually ceased entirely. A somewhat shaken Jen offered, "Let me help you ma'am?" guiding Mac towards a kitchen chair.

A subdued Mac, managed a quiet, "Thank you, Jennifer."

Jen's mouth flopped open, of all the reactions she had expected, this was not one of them. She had expected to have charges filed against her, to be sent straight to the brig, in fact almost anything other than this.

"M…ma'am?"

Mac seated herself at the kitchen table, "I said, 'thank you', Jennifer. Please," she indicated the table, "sit down."

Jen pulled a chair out from under the table and seated herself, hardly knowing how to react.

"Jennifer, I haven't been well for about a week, as you know." Mac began, speaking with obvious difficulty, "and I am never sick. So when something like this happens, I don't handle it well. Since I joined the Corps I have never been able to show weakness. Instead I put the shutters up when things go wrong. Most of the time it's OK, but…"

"Ma'am, you don't need to explain anything."

"Maybe not Jennifer, but just for once I think I want to. I haven't said anything to Mattie, because I'm not a hundred per cent sure what is happening to me. If what I suspect is right, then there are some hard decisions to be made. It's the cause, and the possible effects of those decisions that have made me so…"

"Tempermental, ma'am?"

Mac gave a weak smile, "Thank you, Jennifer." She drew a deep breath and continued, "I think that I may…"

"Be pregnant, ma'am?"

"Is it that obvious, Jennifer?"

"Well ma'am, I think Mattie suspects that, and I'm pretty sure."

Mac paused while she marshaled her thoughts. "I had better tell you then. Before Harm and I got married, I was told that I only had a very slim chance of ever conceiving. If, I say If, I'm pregnant, the reasons that restrict my fertility are also reasons why I may not be able to carry to full term, and in any event, are likely to mean that any pregnancy has the probability of being extremely difficult. That likelihood has scared me almost witless. I haven't told _anyone_ about this yet." She smiled, but not in amusement. "My walls again, I think. On top of that, I have been miserably sick this weekend. I won't depress you with the details, but I will admit that I managed to wind myself up to a pitch when something had to give, and I'm sorry, but you just caught the fall out."

"What fall out ma'am? You can't get to the office today, so I called in on my way to help you with some paperwork, and we took a little longer than we thought."

"That is very generous of you Jennifer. But before you go to work you might benefit from going home and changing your blouse. You wouldn't want Commander Coleman to file charges for a soiled uniform, would you?"

Jen looked down at her left shoulder which bore marked evidence of the recent storm. "Uh no, thank you, ma'am"

Mac's smile held some humour this time, "So much for waterproof eye make-up," she apologized.

"I could recommend some brands, ma'am, Petty Officer Neumann uses them and swears she can swim while wearing them, and I'll shut up now, ma'am." Jen striving to return to an everyday atmosphere realised she had started babbling. Standing, she started to gather together her purse, cover and the letters she was to deliver, ready to go to the office via Ocean Beach, and was on the point of departing when she stopped, with her hand on the door handle and asked, "Ma'am, are you sure you don't want me to stay, and maybe drive you to the MedCen?"

"No, thank you Petty Officer. Get home and shift that blouse, and then report to Commander Coleman. I'll call her from here and tell her I delayed you, but that you're on your way. I'll give you a fifteen minute start." She finished with a slight smile.

It wasn't the broadest smile she had ever seen on Mac's face, Jen thought as she closed the door behind her, but it was an improvement, she thought over the last forty-eight hours!

As she took her place in the Escort's driver's seat, Jen became aware that she was trembling. And then as a sense of relief flooded through her she became aware of just how close an escape she had had. Reflecting on her recklessness in goading an already stressed superior, she realised that if Mac hadn't had her meltdown she could well already be in the brig. Then as she turned the key in the ignition, she recognised that by not asking her not to mention the scene to anyone, Mac had unmistakably shown her total confidence in Jen's discretion.

On arrival at the office, Jen was struck by the industrious atmosphere in the bull-pen. Although no-one was slack about their work, most people found time for a quick informal word with a friend at the water-cooler, or by stopping a couple of extra seconds by a co-worker's desk. But not today… Jen stopped by Yates' desk and asked him if Commander Coleman was in the office.

His "No, Petty Officer, she is in court," was accompanied by a ferocious blush.

"H'mm, thanks. What are you doing out here?" she asked curiously, "I thought for sure you'd be at my desk?"

"Uh, no," he responded, "the new officer, Lieutenant Tinan, took your desk. Is it true, Petty Officer…?" he asked, losing some of his diffidence, "I mean the scuttlebutt says he used to be enlisted?"

"Yes, she answered with a smile, "Lieutenant Tiner" she emphasised the correct pronunciation, "used to be an enlisted. In fact, back at JAG HQ, he was the Admiral's Yeoman, just before I was."

"He was a Yeoman? Like you?" For some reason the subject seemed to fascinate him.

"Yes, he was."

"Does that mean that you'll be commissioned, too, Petty Officer?"

"No, but I don't have time right now. I'll tell you about it…"

"Petty Officer Coates!" That was certainly Tiner's voice, she thought, but she'd never heard him yell like that before!

"Sir!"

"My… er… Your Office, now!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Halting in front of her desk she glanced down and saw that the Lieutenant's face wore a harassed expression, and the look he threw at her seemed baleful in the extreme.

"Have the goodness to close the door, and remain at attention, please Petty Officer," he said in his normal tones.

"But… but…"

"The door, please Petty Officer."

"Aye, aye, sir!" Jen shut the door and resumed her braced position.

"Now, Coates," continued Lieutenant Tiner, placing his hands flat on the desk, and half rising from his chair, "I am, for the benefit of those in bull-pen, currently tearing you a new one. What I am really doing is asking you just what the hell is going on. Relax, stand at ease, whatever."

Hardly military terms thought Jen in mild surprise. "Going on, sir?" She asked him raising her eyebrows in a picture of innocence.

"Don't try that look with me," he replied, trying to smother a grin, "If I recall, I taught it to you!"

"Oh, no, sir," she assured him, "this one I learned as self protection, all by myself."

He considered her for a moment. "Coates, I know there's something going on, which," he grumped, "is part of the reason I got stuck with your desk this morning. Where's the Colonel? Why are you nearly an hour adrift?"

"Part of the reason, sir?" asked Jen, carefully ignoring his questions, and retaining her air of innocence.

"Yes, part of the reason. The other part being scuttlebutt that I used be a Yeoman, in my young and sinless past, so Commander Coleman thought I was best suited to cover your desk. But you haven't answered my questions."

"Sir, the Colonel is working from home today, sir," she assured him adopting her most earnest expression, "and she called me at home to stop by her quarters to help her clear up a couple of small matters, sir, and to bring these letters in, which should explain everything to the Commander's satisfaction, sir."

He leaned back in his chair and gave her a level look. "OK, Coates, quit trying to snow me; I know that expression too well. And I've heard you use that 'sir' too many times in a sentence, too. You used to snow Commander Rabb and Lieutenant Roberts like that. H'mm, never saw you try it with the Colonel, though, or with Commander Turner. So, remember I know your tricks, they won't work on me!"

"No sir! But honestly sir, the Colonel _is_ at home, and she probably will be all day. Don't ask me what's really going on, sir, because I don't know!" And that thought Jen, is the truth. I may have a pretty good idea, but I don't know for sure.

He continued to stare at her. "Alright Coates, I know when I'm being stonewalled. I quit, you can have your job back. It's too much for me now!" He indicated the mass of scribbled message strewn across her normally pristine desk.

As he opened the door, she asked with a mischievous grin, "I wonder, sir, what Gunny Galindez would say about this?"

He threw her a startled glance, and then as he saw her grin, smiled a bit sheepishly, "Do you know the Gunny?"

"No sir, I don't," she replied primly, "but I've heard the stories!"

Lieutenant Tiner had overcome many challenges in rising to his present position and had learned from his experiences. He wasn't about to let Jen have the last word. "Petty Officer!" he snapped out, "the discipline in this office leaves much to be desired. You're a senior PO, so get it squared away!" He glowered around the bull-pen as he turned towards his own office, leaving Jen to stare at his back and mutter, "Aye, aye, sir."

Faith Coleman was an excellent lawyer, but she preferred defending to prosecuting, the role she had been assigned in this current case. To her annoyance, the defendant knew he was guilty, the defence and the judge and the panel all knew he was guilty, but he wouldn't admit it. There was no forensic evidence to link him to the crime, and all she'd had all morning was a succession of hostile witnesses who knew nothing, had heard nothing and had seen nothing. Consequently, she was in no very good mood when on returning to her office when court was adjourned, she saw Jen sitting at her desk and working unconcernedly.

Altering course she wheeled across the bull-pen intent on disciplining the Petty Officer for taking advantage of the Commanding Officer's absence. As she entered Jen's office, the Yeoman stood and said "Good morning ma'am. I am sorry to have missed you earlier, but I was detained at the Colonel's quarters for longer than we anticipated. Here are your messages, ma'am, I believe you will find one from the Colonel, explaining my temporary absence. I also have two letters for you, ma'am. One is for your attention, the other I believe, is for you to have delivered to Lieutenant Simms, after you have read your letter from the Colonel, ma'am."

The Commander looked sternly at the Petty Officer.

"Did you just blindside me Petty Officer?" she demanded suspiciously.

"No ma'am, it was more in the nature of a pre-emptive strike."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ma'am as far as you knew, I was UA. You weren't to know that I had been with the Colonel this morning. But her quarters lie almost directly between the school and the Naval Station. So after I was done at the school it was more efficient to break the journey than come here, log in and then go back out ma'am. But, as I say ma'am you weren't to know, so you were coming in here to make certain that I learned the errors of my ways. But as I am totally innocent on this occasion, ma'am, by informing you of my actions before you reprimanded me, I avoided the possibility of you ending up looking…"

"Foolish, Petty Officer?"

"No ma'am, I was going to say embarrassed ma'am."

"H'mm, I'm beginning to understand, Petty Officer, how it was possible for Lieutenant Simms, to take you in aversion!" She stood still and favoured Jen with a look of acute dislike, belied by the faintest of twinkles in her eye.

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am."

Commander Coleman left the Yeoman's office with the uncomfortable conviction, that somewhere during their conversation she had just been snowed by an expert.

Jen resumed her seat and her duties with a smile on her face and a slight shake of her head. She was under no illusions, however, Commander Coleman had been easy to snow this time, she hadn't known what to expect. Jen knew that the Commander was no fool; if there was a next time that they clashed, the Commander would be prepared.

She worked swiftly through the pile of papers that Lieutenant Tiner had left on her desk and dealt with the most pressing items that were within her sphere of responsibilities. Others were sorted into smaller lots for distribution to senior staff, and finally those with which only the Colonel could deal were placed in her out box.

A whirlwind tour around the perimeter of the bull-pen gave access to the lawyers' offices where she delivered her load of messages, files and writs, and returning to her desk, she typed a query into her computer, and then with a sigh, and an air of resolution, picked up the phone and dialed. She did not have long to wait.

"First Battalion, Sergeant Major Edwards, sir!"

"Good morning, Sergeant Major, this is PO1 Coates, I'm the JSLT JAG's Yeoman. I've been asked to inquire as to the disposition of one of your NCOs, a Sergeant Martinez, T; I don't have a middle initial for him. He was placed under arrest for UA on Friday."

"May I ask what JAG's interest in the Sergeant is, Petty Officer?"

"The Sergeant has an informal a connection with this office, as I understand it, Sergeant Major, that's all. JAG has no formal interest in the case against the Sergeant, unless it is his command's decision to go to Court Martial."

"The JAG's Yeoman can relax, Petty Officer," the Sergeant Major's voice was heavy with irony, "The Sergeant was dealt with this morning under Article fifteen, he can visit you this evening after duty hours."

"Thank you Sergeant Major, but the Sergeant has no interest in visiting me. I will pass the word, as I have been requested."

"Yeah… right. Goodbye Petty Officer."

Mac stopped outside the doors of the OB/Gyn department at the MedCen. This morning's tears had had a cathartic effect on her, but she was still not quite sure how she felt; she wasn't sure if she wanted to hear a positive or negative result. She was sure of one thing, however: she had always wanted a family, so if she was pregnant then she was there for the ride. The options she had considered over the weekend were no longer available. She was still worried about what might lie ahead, and had been surprised at the resurgence of anger she had felt at her body's betrayal of her. She had felt the anger when first diagnosed, but thought those feelings had been dealt with during that uncomfortable session with Dr McCool back at Bethesda over two years ago. And poor Coates had taken the full blast of her anger when all her Yeoman had been trying to do was help her. Taking a deep breath she opened the doors and walked into the waiting room.

The Petty Officer Corpsman was young, blonde, pretty, friendly and polite, and confirming Mac's details asked her to take a seat, and said that the doctor would see her shortly. Mac sat on one of the padded benches and idly looked at the scatter of magazines and pamphlets on the low table in front of her, 'Mother and Baby', 'Your Pregnancy', 'Foetus Development'. She eyed them all with disfavour, maybe she thought, I'm not pregnant, I'm supposed to have all those maternal feelings, and I don't, all I feel at the moment is boredom. Mac didn't, however, have to suffer from boredom for very long. The door at the other side of the waiting room opened, and Mac looked up, expecting to see the white coat of a doctor, instead she saw a blonde, rather sharp faced woman in her thirties, whose stomach stretched the fabric of her grey jersey wool dress. As she crossed the room towards the doors she cast a cursory glance at Mac and then completed a classic double-take.

"Mac!" She exclaimed.

"Mac looked up in puzzlement, and then as recognition came to her, she stood and replied in a neutral tone, "Catherine Gale… no, you told me you'd married; Jones?... no…"

"Johnson."

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry," Mac felt acutely uncomfortable in the other woman's presence, and she didn't know why. She knew the mock-marriage had been for the benefit of the other woman's dying mother, she knew that her DC pregnancy had nothing to do with Harm, but all the same. There was just something…

"Well I'm back in the routine for the second time," Catherine indicated her swollen abdomen, "and you?" she asked.

"Oh, no, just here for a routine check-up," replied Mac, wishing that Catherine would leave.

Her feelings seem to have communicated themselves to the other woman, as her bright, cheery manner faded, and she said with obvious insincerity, "Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got to get on, got to collect Jason from the child minder. Lovely to have seen you, maybe we can get together for a coffee one day soon, bye!"

Mac sat down again, and shook her head. She just didn't like the woman. There was no good reason for it she admitted to herself, it was simple: she didn't like her, because she didn't like her.

A fortunate by product of this chance was meeting that it took Mac's mind of her own situation and the boredom she was beginning to feel - Mac hated sitting idle when she could be doing something… something useful instead of just sitting on her butt! Her thoughts on why she didn't like Catherine Johnson were soon terminated by the arrival of the doctor. Mac looked at her critically, she seemed little more than a child and looked a Dresden doll, she thought disgustedly. Gold blonde hair, wide blue eyes and a snub nose! Mac fully expected to hear her voice to be high-pitched and breathless, but perversely was not comforted when the doctor turned out to have a rather low-pitched musical voice.

The doctor showed Mac into her office, and indicating a screen across one corner of the room told Mac to undress and put on the robe she would find there, and when Mac said when asked that she had not brought a sample, the doctor added that she would find a urine bottle and specimen cup available.

Changing into the robe and completing the necessary procedure was the work of minutes only, and emerging from behind the screen, the doctor told her to lie down on the couch, and opening a side door, asked for a Corpsman to come and take a blood sample, and to do a quick test on the urine.

The doctor, who had introduced herself as Tiffany Robbins (typical, thought Mac disgustedly) had a cool, firm and sympathetic manner. Her examination was as brief and non-intrusive as she could manage without being rushed or superficial, and her questions to Mac were short and to the point and, without being condescending, were couched in layman's terms.

"Well, Colonel," she said, having listened to a list of Mac's symptoms, "I won't say just yet either way. Ordinarily I would say with about eighty-per cent certainty that you are pregnant, but, I have read your notes, and your endometriosis not only presents problems with infertility, but can also mimic some of the symptoms of pregnancy, such as abdominal pain and nausea. However it won't be more than a few minutes before we get the results from the urine test and that will give us a good indication, but I won't be confident until we get back the results of the blood work. You can call on Friday, we should have the results back by then. At the moment, you say the pain isn't too bad? Good, I don't want to prescribe pain meds while you're pregnant unless I have to, The good news is that if you are pregnant then the pain should ease and with any luck disappear around the eighth week."

"So, you can put your clothes back on Colonel, and if you take a seat in the waiting room, I'll bring the urine test results to you as soon as I get them."

Mac had barely time to sit down in the waiting room before the doctor came out from her office. "Colonel," she said with a smile, "I think I can safely say that congratulations are in order. The test indicates positive, but we still need to wait until Friday. If you are pregnant, then we will need to monitor your progress very closely. Good luck, Colonel."

Mac debated whether to return home for the rest of the day, or turn up for duty. She didn't feel really fit, her body screamed out for rest, but her mind protested that she a duty to fill. Settling on a compromise, she decided to go home for lunch and wait to see what, if any reaction, she might have. She chose a light lunch, which she elected to eat in the lounge and taking plate and mug she settled down to watch the lunch time news while she ate. The news was not comforting, a massive IED in Falllujah had exploded, destroying two vehicles, killing five marines and injuring two more. Two incidents in Afghanistan had killed two US Soldiers and a further three marines. The ZNN correspondent in Kandahar reported that there were doubts at troop level regarding the effectiveness of the body armour with which they had been issued and the Senate Armed Forces Committee were now taking an interest in the issue.

Mac winced at the news of the casualties. She had stood on more than one occasion on the tarmac at Dover, paying her respects as the flag-draped caskets had been carried from the aircraft as marines had come home for the last time. Her hand unconsciously moved to protect her stomach as she thought, oh, please let it be a girl. Her sandwich finished, she picked up her coffee mug and sipped at the brew. She wrinkled her nose; she'd used the same brand of coffee she always used, she'd used the right amount for the water, she drank it black, so there was no question of tainted milk or sugar, but it didn't taste right; it tasted foul. She'd have to check the water supply and contact the water company; with her stomach being so finicky she couldn't risk drinking tainted water. Oh, but she'd finish watching this segment of news first.

Jen was working at a furious rate, she had a shi… a whole load of stuff to try and get finished before she secured at three. It might take some fast talking to make her getaway, but as a last resort she had her written instructions from Mac, '1530hrs - Mattie to physical therapy'. She had already brought Yates in so she could read him in on the outstanding matters that might crop up before everyone secured for the day. He still blushed furiously at times when she spoke to him, but he seemed intelligent and was quick on the uptake, even the couple of days freedom from Lieutenant Simms baleful influence was having an effect.

Crossing the bull-pen to inform Commander Coleman that she was on the point of leaving, she saw that Sandy Dennis and Paula Lawson had their heads together and giggling while looking in her direction. What the heck were those two finding so funny, she wondered, and then as realisation sank in, she muttered "Damn!" If she had to deal with gossip started by those two, it was one more complication she could do without right now. Speaking of which, she reminded herself, I need to mend fences with Sam Martin, that was something that she just couldn't allow to slide.

Commander Coleman, taking in the sight of Jen's purse and cover, said "I now suppose you've come to ask me for permission to secure early?"

"Yes, ma'am, if you please. Seaman Yates has my desk, I've given him a thorough briefing on what's outstanding for the day, and he knows he can turn to Lieutenant Tiner, if anything happens to put him out of this depth."

"I suppose it would be too much to ask to enquire why you feel the need to secure early?"

"No, ma'am, physical therapy, ma'am!"

Commander Coleman completely misunderstanding Jen's reply - exactly as Jen had planned - could not see any obvious need for the Yeoman to be attending physical therapy, and had never heard her mention it to any of her co-workers, came to the conclusion that for whatever reason PO Coates felt best, she had decided not to let the world know her medical secrets. "Very well, Petty Officer. How frequent are these appointments?"

"Twice weekly ma'am."

"And for how long do you expect to keep them up?"

"About nine months, ma'am!" Jen had snatched a figure out of the air, but as soon as she said it, she knew she had made a mistake. She waited to see if the Commander had picked up on that figure.

Faith Coleman gave her a speculative look. "I understand Petty Officer, that you were unwell last week?"

Damn! Thought Jen, just the conclusion I hoped she wouldn't reach! "Yes ma'am. I was less than careful with some leftover meatloaf, ma'am!"

"I see, Petty Officer. Well, it's your business, after all. Until it begins to affect your duties! Dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am!"

Jen was angry with herself as she climbed into her car. She had it suddenly seemed contracted what a British Sailor had once told her was foot and mouth disease - by that he had meant opening your mouth and putting your foot in it. All it would take, Jen knew, was that mention of her suspicions by Commander Coleman to anyone at all, and the news would spread like wildfire that Jen Coates was pregnant. And with an even greater sinking feeling, she knew that if that scuttlebutt got as far as Dennis or Lawson, then it was almost certain that poor Yates would have the finger pointed at him as the father. Damn, damn, damn! She should have been more careful!

Jen was still fretting when she arrived at the school, and as Mattie was perched on the steps waiting for her she had no time to resume her customary calm. Mattie sliding into the car noticed almost at once that Jen was not in her sunniest mood, and wisely decided to say nothing, as Jen engaged gear and head for Bob Wilson Avenue.

Just for once, Mattie thought, with relief they didn't have to hunt for a parking slot. And just as well, she thought, looking sideways at Jen, she had never seen her kinda-sister looking quite so savage. Hauling herself out of the car and watching while Jen locked the doors, she said, "My session is about an hour Jen. It's not much fun to watch, but it's OK if you want to. Or you could grab a coffee in the cafeteria, and I can come and find you when I've done?"

"Huh? Oh. No… no thanks Mattie. Look, Matts, if you don't mind, I'll leave you to make your own way to Therapy. I've got a couple things to work out, and then I need to go and see Fran. So when you finish therapy, if the walk up to Fran's ward is too much, call me on my cell and I'll come and get you."

"It won't be," Mattie grinned, "I kinda like Fran too, remember? Jen," she continued in a more serious voice, "you seem kinda upset, is everything alright at work?"

"No, no, work's fine Mattie, thanks." But as she walked away Mattie thought she heard her friend say quietly to herself, "It's my life that sucks."

Jen made her way to Calvin Graham ward, where she found Fran engrossed in a television programme which seemed to involve a score or so of twenty-somethings in swimming trunks and bikinis running around a beach somewhere that didn't look California. Her "Hi, Fran", was greeted by a wave of the hand and a "Shush!"

Irritated as Jen was, she couldn't help be but amused at her friend's absorption in the television programme, and as she sat and waited for Fran to come back from whatever exotic location it was she felt her spirits begin to lift.

At last the on-screen credits rolled, and Fran sat back against her pillows and smiled, "I knew that little witch Miranda wouldn't be able to split up Sue and Ryan, but, Jen did you see…"

Jen chuckled at her friend's enthusiasm. "Fran! Fran! I have absolutely no idea who Miranda, Ryan or Sue are, and before you start trying to explain, I have absolutely no desire to know who they are! Listen: I've got something far more important to tell you. I pulled a bit of a blindsider this morning on the Sergeant Major of the first/ninth. Tim's out of the brig, he's not restricted, so if I were you, I'd turn off that damn' TV and check my hair and make-up before he gets here!"

"Oh, Jen Really?" Fran turned pink with pleasure, "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! Come here so I can kiss you!"

Jen giggled at Fran's excitement, she was almost literally bouncing up and down in bed, "No thanks needed Fran, I didn't do anything. It wasn't me that got him out of the brig. I just made a 'phone call and fooled the Sergeant major into telling me more or less what had happened. Tim got an Article 15 on his record and I don't know what for, and I don't know what he got. All I know is that he didn't get restricted to barracks."

Fran's face fell, "Jen, an Article 15! That's a permanent mark on his record!"

"Hey, it's better than an Article 32 or a Court Martial!"

"But Jen, you don't understand, Tim was bucking for his next promotion to E6. He's not like me Jen. I'm going to serve my hitch and finish. Tim's just re-upped, he's going career! This could seriously hurt him!"

"Fran, listen to me! It's a minor gig. The Sergeant Major didn't sound pissed at him. The fact that he's not on restriction is a good sign that they don't think he was too bad. And look at me, I've got an article 32 and 30 days brig time on my record, and I'm already two steps up and qualified for my next. So, less of the dismals, hey?"

Fran essayed a shaky laugh, "I'm sorry Jen, I don't know why I got so worked up. You're right; it's not a career killer. It's just that…that…" and she shyly stuttered to a stop.

"Go on, honey," Jen encouraged her.

Fran looked down at her blanket covered lap and said quietly, "It's just that I love him so much."

Jen smiled fondly at her friend, "So it's that serious, huh?"

"Yes… Did I ever tell you, that he's the only guy I've ever been with… like that?"

"No, Fran, you didn't, but I'm not surprised."

Fran looked at her friend and said, "Thank you Jennifer."

Jen blinked, "That's very formal. Thank me for what?"

"Oh, thank you for not being surprised, thank you for bringing me good news, thank you for having my back, thank you for being my friend, thank you…"

"Stop! Stop! Alright, alright already! I get the picture" protested a slightly embarrassed Jen.

"No, I don't think you do," Fran said with a definite look of mischief in her eyes.

"Go on, then," challenged Jen, "try me!"

"Maybe I will. Or on the other hand, perhaps not." Fran teased.

Oh, no, Jen thought, she's going to tell me she's pregnant too!

Fran pretended to consider the question. "No, definitely, I think not!" she crowed triumphantly.

"What don't you think?" asked a voice from the door.

Both women turned their heads, to see Tim, almost hidden by a huge bunch of flowers standing in the doorway.

Fran just looked at him, her heart in her eyes, and Jen, feeling slightly embarrassed, gathered up her cover and purse, and said, "OK, that's it, I'm gone! Tim, make sure she doesn't eat you! And call me!"

Leaving the ward and her friends behind her, Jen tried to convince herself that she was wrong in jumping to conclusions. After all hadn't she just this afternoon been pissed at Commander Coleman for jumping to the same conclusion? But then again she mused, there was Fran saying she really loved Tim - and from the look on her face when he came in, that certainly looked like the truth. And then she'd made the point of only ever having slept with Tim. And then that ridiculously enormous bouquet. The evidence was mounting up thought Jen; Mac could probably make a circumstantial case. Mac! Oh crap! She and Mattie had better call in on her before they went on to Ocean Beach. Probably, she acknowledged, not for any real comfort they could offer her, although Jen hoped that this morning's flood had finally burst whatever dam Mac had been trying to erect, but more to reassure Mattie.

Jen still felt a little uneasy at the extent of Mac's breakdown. She had been trying all day to put the memory behind her, and the frenetic pace of the work she had done had helped, but now that the memory had returned, she couldn't help but give a little shiver.

She stood in front of the elevator doors waiting for the car to arrive on her floor. Mentally running through her priorities for the morning, she decided that if Mac wasn't reporting for duty, she'd check in on her and make sure she was alright. She definitely needed to talk to Sam Martin. She had barely exchanged a word with him since that awful scene with Lieutenant Simms. They needed to get any differences between them out of the way. The sight of two of the most senior enlisted at loggerheads could quite possibly be the cause of divided loyalties amongst their juniors and a drop in efficiency. That couldn't be allowed to happen; the nature of JAG work made it have a high impact on people's lives. Then she needed to be on the watch for any scuttlebutt concerning pregnancies, Seaman Yates and herself. Not even the lack of her expanding waistline would help, she bitterly reflected, that sort of scuttlebutt would then only insinuate that she'd had an abortion.

Thank God, the car had arrived! She needed to find Mattie before… The doors sighed open and Jen found herself face to face with the subject of her last thought. Giving herself a mental shake, she smiled, "Hi, Mattie, I was just coming to find you!"

"Aren't we going to see Fran?"

"Ah, I've just left her, Mattie. Tim's just arrived, and after not being able to see each other over the weekend, they wanted a little 'them' time."

"Oh, that's too bad! I really wanted to see her, but if Tim's there, I guess us girl-friends take second place!" Mattie shrugged in resignation.

Jen stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor, "Too true," despite Mattie's evident disappointment, Jen was relieved that she appeared to be taking it philosophically. "I've got an idea, I think Mac might appreciate a quick visit, she seemed a little better when I left her this morning." Again the truth, but not quite the whole truth, thought Jen with a twinge of conscience, "and then, because I've had a brute of a day, I don't feel like cooking so how's about we stop off on the way home at say, _Ciao Bella's_ on Newport and grab a pizza and wash it down with ice cream?"

"Are you trying to bribe me?" asked Mattie suspiciously.

Jen floundered for a few seconds. Mattie enjoyed her discomfort and then decided to have pity on her, "Because if you are, it's working!"

"Mattie! You… you…" and Jen broke into giggles.

Mattie assumed a superior air and said loftily, "I really don't know Jennifer Coates, just what it is about elevators that you seem to find so amusing!"

Jen looked at Mattie in mock horror. "Don't. Ever. Do. That. Again!" She said slowly and deliberately, with a shudder, "You sounded just the way I remember the Dragon Lady did! And she was one scary lady!"

"Amen to that!" Agreed Mattie mock-reverentially, casting her eyes upwards, but pleased with the success of her teasing, and nearly causing another outbreak of giggles in Jen.

Mac woke up still sitting on the couch and with a crick in her neck. Her mug of cold coffee and the dirty plate were still on the occasional table, and the television was exhorting her to buy Mama Edie's Fine Foods Fancies - whatever they were. Checking her internal clock she was dismayed to find that it was seventeen-nineteen hours. Oh, crap, she thought, I've slept the whole damn' afternoon! And I was going to turn in for duty!

As she levered herself off the couch she saw that her uniform skirt was badly crumpled. Damn! Again! That was another task she could do without this evening. Her blouse too was crumpled and creased, particularly across the back where her bodyweight had crushed it against the cushions; that was no great hassle it would have gone in the laundry anyway, and pressing a blouse was no big deal. What was a big deal she suddenly realised was the way her bra was cutting into the ribs and the bottom of her breasts. That she decided was something she would definitely have to take care of… she paused, once she had thrown up again - fortunately the downstairs bathroom was only a few steps away.

She had barely finished washing her face when she heard Mattie calling her name. As she left the bathroom, she caught sight of herself in the hallway mirror. God, what a sight! Tousled hair, puffy face, blouse crumpled to hell and back and half undone, barefoot and in a skirt which she now realised had managed to twist itself around on her waist in addition to being creased almost beyond redemption.

"Mattie?" she called out, "I'll be with you in just a… oh, good afternoon, Petty Officer."

"Good afternoon ma'am. I'll… I'll just go and put some coffee on, shall I?" Jen who had followed Mattie through the front door had entered the hallway just in time to see Mac leave the bathroom, and rather than cause any further awkwardness retreated rapidly into the kitchen, where closing the door, she leant back against for a few seconds, and said to herself, Jennifer Coates please tell me that you did not just see what you just saw.

Mac, equally taken aback said, "Mattie, go help Coates in the kitchen please, I'll be with you both in a second." Her dash upstairs to her closet was followed by an ecstasy of fumbling as she dragged on T-shirt and jeans and dragged a comb, wincing as it hit a snarl, through her hair. There wasn't much she could about her face, not without a wash cloth and a basin of cold water, and there was no time for that now. She'd just have to let nature take its course. Pulling a pair of moccasins onto her bare feet she gathered up the tattered shreds of her dignity and returned to the scene of the disaster.

Mattie came into the kitchen and sat at the table and watched as Jen checked the condition of the coffee in the pot and sniffing in disgust at its bitter aroma poured the contents down the sink and set about brewing a fresh pot; in a few moments the aroma of fresh coffee permeated the kitchen and Jen sat down with Mattie to wait. Mattie giggled quietly and nudging Jen asked in a low voice, "What's going to be ready first, do you think, Mac or the coffee?"

And both nearly jumped out of their skins when Mac's voice from the doorway said, "Oh, I don't think the coffee stands a chance!"

Jen did jump to her feet and said, "Good afternoon, ma'am, the coffee is not yet quite ready."

"Thank you, Coates, at ease, and please sit down. Now, I'm glad you've both come by. I had intended to call you this afternoon and ask that you do just that, but as you may have gathered from my somewhat unorthodox appearance, I fell asleep and had only woken up minutes before you arrived. Coates is that coffee ready yet?"

Recognising that Mac was stalling for time, Jen made a performance of checking the coffee, pouring three mugs and bringing them to the table. All three sat cradling their mugs, Jen sipped her coffee with relish, but Mac sniffed at cautiously, at hers, and taking a small sip, wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Coates," she asked, "does this coffee taste alright to you?"

"Perfectly fine, ma'am."

"Mattie?"

"No it's good, Mac."

"Is there a problem, ma'am?"

"Frankly, yes, there is Coates. It tastes like…" Mac shot a guilty glance at Mattie and hurriedly changed what she was about to say, "It tastes awful," she finished lamely.

Mattie sniggered and received a reproving look from both Mac and Jen.

Jen then turned towards Mac and just said, but with significant emphasis, "Oh."

Mac sighed, "Oh, indeed. Mattie, I hear I scared you this morning, and I just want to make sure that you know that I never thought of… well if you thought I was thinking…" she floundered to a stop submerged in confusion.

"Oh that's alright, Mac, Mattie claimed cheerfully, "I knew you'd be OK, Jen said she was going to fix it!"

Jen looked horrified and stared pleadingly at Mattie to please, please, shut up. Guiltily she looked across at Mac. To her relief however, Mac looked mildly amused and said, "Oh did she?"

Mattie looked first at one and then at the other, and asked slowly, with just a suggestion of guilt in her voice, "Did you guys have a fight, or something?"

Certainly not!" Jen exclaimed, "whatever put that idea into your head? Petty Officers don't fight with Colonels! Ever!"

"No, no fight," agreed Mac, "We just sat down together and had a little talk, and the Petty Officer put me straight on a couple of things."

Mattie having been 'put straight' on a couple of occasions in the past by Mac whispered an awed "Wow!" and looked at Jen with renewed respect.

Mac smiled and continued, "Anyway, now that you're here, Mattie there's something I need to talk to you about…"

"Should I go and wait in the car, ma'am?"

"No, Coates, I think you need to hear this too. Mattie's family, but you're part of my professional family, so please stay. As I was saying, this morning I went to see the doctor, and she took blood and urine samples, and they ran some tests. The urine test results they do on the spot, but the blood test results take a few days to come back. The urine tests give a strong indication, but only the blood tests can be considered as proof."

"Proof of what?" asked Mattie.

"Well the urine tests suggested that I'm going to have a baby. It's not definite until we get the blood results back, but it would explain the way I've been feeling and acting. We're not certain, but there's a very good chance that I'm pregnant." Mac paused to await reactions.

Jen smiled and said quietly, "If it's not too soon, then congratulations ma'am."

Mattie's "Wow! Cool!" Was swiftly followed by a somewhat more decorous response "Yeah, 'gratulations Mac"

Mac smiled in acknowledgement, "Now, you two are the first people I have told, and…"

Mattie interrupted incredulously, "You haven't even told _Harm _yet?"

"No, Mattie, not yet."

"But that is just so wrong!"

Mac sighed again, "Normally, Mattie I'd agree with you. But first-off, he's not here right now so he hasn't seen me the way you did, so he isn't worried about me right now, not in that way, and you are, so you deserve an explanation, and second I don't want to say anything to him until we're absolutely sure. Mattie, you may not know it, but Harm and I both really want to have a baby, and if this is a false alarm, I don't want to raise his hopes, only to have to disappoint them. Can you understand that, OK?"

Mattie looked steadily at Mac for what seemed like a long time, her normally expressive face, on this occasion giving away absolutely nothing. Eventually she nodded and said, albeit in grudging tone, "Yeah, OK, it kinda makes sense."

"OK, thank you. As I said, you are the first people I've told and it isn't yet one hundred per cent, so Mattie, I'd really, really appreciate it if you didn't say anything to your friends just yet. If we find out on Friday that the blood work comes back positive, then I'll tell you that it's OK to spread the news."

"OK… hey! How come you didn't tell Jen not to tell?"

"Because the Petty Officer knows that if she tells anyone before I give her the go-ahead, then I'd have to throw her into the brig. Isn't that right Petty Officer?"

"One hundred per cent ma'am!"

Mattie was puzzled. The two women were straight-faced, Mac's words had sounded like a threat, yet her tone wasn't threatening, and Jen's voice hadn't quite got the crisp edge that Mattie was used to hearing her use with officers. She glowered at each of them in turn, "Is there's something going on here that I don't know about? 'Cos if there is I'm going to find out! And that is not a threat, it's a fact!"

Mac and Jen caught themselves sharing the same gently amused expressions as they responded to Mattie's comment. For some reason their shared reaction bothered them and they quickly broke eye contact. Jen looked back at Mattie and smiled, while Mac picked up her coffee mug and tried another sip. Again her face wrinkled in dissatisfaction. "It's no good, I can't drink this," she sighed, "It's disgusting. No, Petty Officer, don't make more. You say it's fine and Mattie says it's fine it's just me that… Oh, no!" she finished with a groan.

"Mac, what's wrong?" asked Mattie in alarm.

"Well, sweetheart, you know how sometimes women who are expecting babies get cravings for all sorts of unusual foods?"

Mattie nodded.

"Well sometimes, it gets turned around and women who love something, it could be peanut butter, or salads, or" she said sadly, "Coffee, just can't stand the taste of their favourites for a while. I hope this phase doesn't last too long," she concluded, contemplating a bleak future without her favourite stimulant.

Jen stood and gathered up the cups and despite Mac's protests, rinsed them under the faucet and left them on the draining board to dry. "Well, ma'am," she said, "I think we'd better leave you in peace, I've promised this one pizza and ice-cream, so we'd best get going."

Mac gulped at the thought of pizza and ice-cream, but for a fleeting moment wondered what pizza covered with ice cream would taste like, and shuddered.

Mattie remained seated at the table and said, a little uncomfortably "Look, Jen, Mac, I don't want to sound ungrateful, but… Jen, I love being at your place, and I loved meeting Tony and Sally and going to visit Fran, and all… but I've been thinking about this all day, I got so scared this morning, you know? And I was thinking what happened if Mac got really sick and there was no-one here to help her? So, would you be mad if I said I wanted to come back here? Back home."

Jen shot a quick look across at Mac, who met her eyes with raised eyebrows. Getting no clue from Mac, Jen took a breath and said, "Mattie, of course I'm not mad with you for wanting to look after Mac, I love you even more for it. And we can still do all the things you like; we can still go and see Fran together, if that's what you want. And I'm going to need you on Saturday; you've got to help me cook for Tony and Sally!"

Mac looked Mattie and said, "You don't need to ask Mattie, you come home whenever you want. You've got your own key, and I promise I won't change the locks. Just give me a little warning, so I can stock the freezer!"

"So I can come home tomorrow?"

"Sure. But if that's the way you feel, why not tonight?"

"Well, all my stuff is still at Jen's. And besides…" her eyes took on a mischievous look, "Pizza and ice cream!"

"Glutton," mocked Jen. "So if that's settled Colonel, we can load Mattie's stuff into my car before she goes to school, I'll pick her up after school to go and see Fran, and then I'll bring her back to you?"

"Yes, carry on Petty Officer."

"Aye, aye, ma'am! C'mon you. Good night ma'am."

"Good night Petty Officer, good night Mattie."

Shutting the door after their departure. Mac leaned against it and thought, wow, that went well, I need a coffee… oh crap! And dispiritedly went to search the kitchen store cupboard to find out whether there was any tea hidden in a corner. There wasn't.

She did however feel much better than she had earlier; her visitors had done her good. The prospect of Mattie returning home, about which she had first had her doubts, could well prove to beneficial. Cheered she curled up on the couch and reached for the 'phone, "Hi Harm, honey it's me… I love you… yes, I know you do… what was that for? Because it's true… And because I'm going to lay down the law. You must be back in San Diego on Friday. No ifs, buts, maybes, no no-can-do's, nothing, nada, niente, zip. You will be in San Diego on Friday, and that's an order fly-boy! Yes, I do really need you back. I don't care what time, just let me know an ETA and I'll be there to meet you. OK, that's all settled, now tell me how was your weekend? How are our god-children?"

Jen and Mattie drove back into Ocean beach and on to Newport Avenue, where they sat at a pavemetn table at _Cara Bella_ and made a leisurely meal of Pizza followed by ice cream. Mattie had an outstanding meal as she gleefully informed Jen, when the waiter not only accepted her order for ham and pineapple topping without comment but smiled and addressed her as _Signora._ Jen just looked at her and with smile in her voice, remarked "Disgusting child!" A compliment which Mattie accepted gracefully and with an ostentatious smirk of gratification..


	11. 09 October 2007

**Tuesday 09 October 2007**

A deeply refreshed Jen woke early and having completed her run, returned to the apartment in time to chivvy Mattie out of the shower, and was surprised and pleased to find that while she had been in the shower Mattie had managed to cook scrambled eggs for them both. And if there was a lack of their usual teasing and gentle mockery, it was still a good breakfast, eaten with a sense of friendly companionship, and Jen reflected, in total contrast to the _sturm und drang _of yesterday.

It was going to be strange, she thought, to be here alone in the evenings, but although she could regret Mattie's leaving the apartment, she couldn't regret that Mattie was returning to the house in Lemon Grove to look after Mac. With Harm away in DC for God knows how long, and Mac alternating between rage and depression as the effects of her pregnancy took hold of her Mac needed someone to keep an eye on her and make sure she didn't slide back into that awful state she'd suffered over the past weekend - and I don't care, Jen told herself, that Mac isn't allowing herself to believe she's not pregnant until she gets the results of the blood test, I know damn well she is.

Mattie looked across the breakfast counter at her friend, her kinda-sister as they had decided best described their somewhat unorthodox relationship. Jen seemed to be distracted, that was unusual Mattie thought, and hoped that Jen wasn't going to be getting depressed. "Hey," she said, "Are you falling asleep over there?"

Jen smiled, "No, I was just thinking about all the stuff I get to do now in the evenings."

"Does it bother you that I want, that I need to go back to look after Mac?" asked Mattie, totally undeceived by Jen's claims

"Oh Mattie, no! Really it's a blessing in disguise! This way we won't let her be alone and then she won't get as pissed at us as she was during the weekend we've just had! I get to look after her at work, and you get the tough job, the night shift. You got to admit, though, it's got to be better than wondering what she's doing all the time. At least this way one of gets to keep an eye on her. And speaking of keeping an eye on things, look at the time, missy. Now, I've thrown your bags and chair into the trunk, so we're all set. Don't worry, if you've left something behind it'll turn up, and I can always give it to you when I pick you up from school or when I next have to go to Lemon Grove."

Although, she thought, it might not be a bad idea to put a little time between visits to Lemon Grave, and some distance between the Colonel and me. Over these last couple of weeks the boundaries have been getting just a little too blurry for comfort.

It felt a little strange though, just dropping Mattie off and heading straight for 32nd Street, still it meant from tomorrow anyway she would be back in her old routine, just having to listen to the traffic news in order to decide whether to by-pass the Marine's Recruit Deport going North-about, or the San Diego Airport going South- About.

She could rarely pass the airport without thinking of Lieutenant Singer, when her body had been found she'd had an airline ticket with San Diego as the destination. She was supposed to have taken an apartment somewhere in the city, but she'd never made the flight. I wonder where the apartment was, mused Jen, it would be too freaky if it was mine! She couldn't help but laugh at herself and the absurdity of the idea. There must be hundreds of thousands of apartments in San Diego. Even so, the thought still sent a shiver up her spine.

Pulling into a vacant slot in the parking lot, Jen quick-stepped her way past the Marine on security duty, and again she chose to use the stairs rather than the elevator. Passing through the almost empty bull-pen, still early, she entered her office, where to her surprise she found a full coffee mug on a coaster on her desk. She knew that she hadn't left it there, because she had made sure the desk was tidy before she'd handed it over to Yates. She would have to explain to him that if he had a coffee, even if he hadn't drunk it, he could not leave the mug on her desk. She would also have to find out who last night's duty seaman was and remind him that he was supposed to square away any mugs or other detritus that had been accidentally left out. She was surprised therefore when on picking up the mug to take it back to the galley to find that it steaming hot. Looking around the bull-pen she could see no-one there who would have left her a surprise morning gift, when Mac's semi-mournful voice from behind her, nearly made her drop the mug.

"It was mine, Coates' I thought I'd give it a try and see whether my taste buds have recovered. They haven't, and as I've already thrown away too much coffee this last twenty-four hours, I thought you might as well have it."

"Thank you ma'am. Ma'am, is there a problem I should know about? You're in so early… Do I need to pass the word for JAGs?"

"Uh… No… no thank you." Mac's forehead creased in momentary puzzlement, and then cleared as Jen's meaning became apparent to her and grinned weakly, "No. Nothing like that, just that a bursting bladder woke me up at Oh-God-no-hundred hours and I couldn't get back to sleep, so I thought I'd come in early and get a jump on all the work I missed yesterday."

"Shall I bring in what I've got ma'am?"

"No thank you Coates, I've got quite enough on my desk already, but grab your note pad when you've finished your coffee, and come in then, please."

Obeying the dictum that a request from a superior officer is tantamount to an order, Jen gulped down the coffee, thankful for once that it had lost the edge of its temperature, knocked on the doorframe, waited as courtesy required, and entered, halting to stand at ease in front of Mac's desk.

"Take a seat, Coates," Mac commanded.

Jen in the act of sitting, paused and looked across at the Colonel, the sound of the voice was of course completely different, but the tone, intonation and words were those of her old Chief, Admiral Chegwidden. He had been replaced at JAG by General Cresswell, whom Jen admired, but she had a real affection for the crusty old Admiral, and often wondered where he was and what he was doing. At the thought of him, her eyes misted over, and she had to blink hard.

Mac looked across at her in some surprise. "Something wrong Coates?"

"Oh, no, ma'am, it's just that when you said 'take a seat' it reminded me that that's what the Admiral used to say, and it kind of took me by surprise, that's all ma'am. Ma'am," she added diffidently, "I don't suppose you've heard from the Admiral at all, or know where he is or what he's doing?"

Mac studied her Yeoman. Jennifer Coates was certainly full of surprises, she thought. She and Coates obviously held very different views of Admiral Chegwidden. Mac had respected him, and had at times, even felt the beginnings of liking, even on one occasion an attraction. But he had been such a hard-ass so many times that she had found it hard to like him. Look at all that needless crap he'd put everyone through after the Paraguay thing. And more than once, she remembered he had almost reduced his Yeoman to tears. Yet here she was, actually sounding as if she actually missed the old son of a bitch.

"No, Coates. I'm sorry I don't. He walked out of his dine-out; and as far as I know he met up with his daughter and they set out on his great baseball tour."

Jen smiled reminiscently, "He threatened to fire me once for saying that I wasn't a great baseball fan. He didn't really mean it though." She looked at Mac, "He said a lot of things he didn't mean ma'am. And sometimes he forgot to say sorry."

"H'mm, maybe. But I didn't tell you to come in here to talk about old times. We've got a stack of work waiting, so let's get to it. Now these case files, I've tagged them up. I know we're short-handed, so these with the blue flags are for Commander Coleman. She'll need to read them through and prioritise them. If we can I'd like to see the most of them cleared at article 32 level. The red flags are for Lieutenant Walker; same deal for her. The yellow flags are for Lieutenant Grant, and the orange for Lieutenant Matthews. These two files here are for Lieutenant Tiner. If he has any queries he is to ask me, or in my absence Commander Coleman. Now, administration matters. We are still short of an administrative Officer, but I hope to be able to start rectifying that position this afternoon. H'mm two enlisted on re-assignment, one Yeoman, PO3 Rebecca Williams from JAG HQ, and PO3 Walter T Jackman, a Personnel Specialist from the _Seahawk_. Both due to report by oh-nine-hundred today, that's in seventeen minutes. Do you know either of them Coates?"

"No ma'am, I saw their names when their orders came in, and I've requested on-line copies of their SRBs from personnel, but I haven't had time to check if we've received them."

"Make, that a priority please. Now… " Mac was interrupted by her shrill tone of her direct line 'phone. "JAG JSLT, Colonel MacKenzie-Rabb. No, General, it's not. What's happened General? Dear God! Do we know if there are… How many? Six dead so far. I see, General do we have any names? Yes… yes… yes…. Thank you General. Yes, please do. Yes, I have your cell number, thank you again General."

She put the phone down, her face troubled. "Coates, I need all my officers, including any judges present, in my office ASAP, pass the word. Start at the courtroom, if the Court martial has started then don't interrupt, If not then my compliments to Colonel Mayfield, ask him to recess the court until after he has attended this briefing."

"What's happened ma'am?"

"There's been an attack, Coates… No… don't just stand there, get going! Oh, and you will need to attend this meeting as well. I don't want to have to do two briefings."

The Court martial was not yet in session and Jen was able to pass the word to a grumpy Colonel Mayfield and in quick succession she was able to find Commander Coleman and Lieutenants Walker, Graves, Grant, Tiner and Matthews, the first and last from the Court Martial room, the remainder from their offices and cubby holes. They made for a crowded office, and Jen was barely able to squeeze herself into a corner. Mac looked around and asked, "Is that everybody, Petty Officer?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now, everyone; I have an announcement to make: General Cresswell has just informed me that at oh-seven-twenty-seven hours PST, today, there was an attack on JAG HQ at Falls Church." She paused to let people gasp and look at each other for a moment, "Thank you! There are casualties: as of now we have six dead, seventeen wounded and eleven MIA. Commander Sturgess is one of the MIA. As yet, there is no indication of motive, but as eye witnesses have reported see a "big rocket" fired directly at the JAG building from a vehicle, the possibility of a terrorist attack cannot be ruled out."

Again she waited while speculation ran around the room for a couple of minutes. And then continued, "ZNN camera crews are on the scene, but Public Affairs have persuaded the network to hold off broadcasting the news until twelve-hundred EST, which is in four minutes, by which time I have been ordered to inform all ranks as to the situation. Please hold any questions until I have made the announcement. When I dismiss you, take position at the rear of the bull-pen. Dismissed!"

The response of "Aye, aye ma'am," seemed to lack its usual bite.

As the assembled officer trooped their way around the edge of the bull-pen, Mac nodded at Jen, who cleared her throat and rapped out, "Attention on deck!".

All activity in the bull-pen ceased as the staff rose to their feet and assumed the position of attention. Mac stepped forward and clearing her throat said, "At ease. I have to tell you that a little over an hour and half ago, there was an explosion at the JAG HQ building in Falls Church. There are casualties. I am sure that some of you will have friends in Falls Church and will be anxious to know what has become of them. As soon as there is any further news, I will let you know, and as more details are released I will keep an update board current. Thank you. Carry on." She raised her left hand and held it horizontally and watched it intently for a few seconds, and then turning back towards her office, she beckoned Jen to walk with her and said in a conversational tone, "I hate having to do things that like that, I was sure I was shaking, but my hand was quite steady."

Jen looked at her sharply, checking for signs of shock; Mac's words didn't really seem to connect with the reality of the moment. Maybe it was a coping mechanism.

"Alright Petty Officer, come right in, I'd like to clear my desk of crap before I speak to the re-assignees. Are they here yet?"

"I have seen two new faces, ma'am, but I haven't had a chance to check their IDs yet."

"Alright then Coates, you know what I want doing with these, so get to it, and get the two new guys here ASAP!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am"

Jen made short work of clearing the clutter off Mac's desk and stowing it temporarily on her own and after checking her computer to see if electronic copies of the requested SRBs had arrived, sent them to the printer, she walked out into the bull-pen and raising her voice enough to be heard she called, "Petty Officers Williams and Jackman! Williams and Jackman, front and centre!"

As she had anticipated the two new faces belonged to the names she had called. Jackman, the male PO3 wore a Personnel Specialist's rating badge while Williams wore that of a Yeoman. Jen gave a quick but thorough visual inspection; there was no surer way to set Mac off than to turn in for work in an ungroomed condition. Satisfied that the two in front of her would pass muster, she directed them to follow her into her outer office.

Jen was collating the freshly printed copies of the SRBs when she noticed Williams seemed to be very nervous. The girl seemed very young and checking her date of birth Jen saw that she was still a few months short of her 21st birthday. She smiled reassuringly at Williams, "Relax, take a breath, the Colonel sounds a bit fierce at times, but she's OK, she won't eat you."

The girl's reply was certainly not one Jen had expected. "It's not that, Petty Officer. It's my husband, he's assigned to JAG Falls Church. And the Colonel just said there were casualties, and I don't know what's happening."

For a moment Jen stood frantically trying to figure out what to do next. After what seemed an age to both her and the young woman staring at her with huge eyes, Jen came to a decision, telling both of the interviewees to sit down on the chairs along the side wall of her office, she rapped sharply on Mac's doorjamb and waited for the lack of response that would tell her she could enter.

"Are those the SRBs, Coates?" Mac asked indicating the folder Jen had clasped to her bust.

"Just one of them ma'am. Ma'am we may have a problem. With Petty Officer Williams, the female Petty Officer ma'am. Ma'am, earlier, when the General called, you seemed to be writing down names?"

"Yes, so?"

"Ma'am, was there a PO2 Williams, E M, anywhere on your list?"

Mac's went still, and she looked down at her list, and then looking up at Jen, she asked in a hollow voice, "Her brother?"

"No, ma'am."

"Jennifer, please not her…"

"Husband ma'am? Yes, ma'am."

Neither of them had noticed that Mac had called her 'Jennifer' nor noticed that Jen had slipped back into her bad habit of finishing her superiors' sentences.

Jen sighed, "Petty Officer 2, Williams, Edward M, IST, married Petty Officer 3 Hammond, Rebecca, A, on July 25th this year ma'am. That's why she's here; they were both assigned to JAG at Church Falls, and he was due a PCS. There is a note on her SRB that he is awaiting orders reassigning him to the IG's Office San Diego Naval Base."

Mac's smile was wintry. "Pass the word for Lieutenant Walker to report to me ASAP, she may be a bit more feminine than I can let myself be in these cases. Tell the other … no… not yet. Once Lieutenant Walker is here, wait until I pass the word and then send, er… Williams in. Once she's in tell the other Petty Officer…"

"Jackman, ma'am"

"Yes, thank you, Coates" The irony wasn't lost on Jen, and she put her tongue between her teeth resolved not to interrupt again. "Tell Jackman to dismiss until eleven hundred hours. Have someone show him the where the cafeteria is. But only after I've got Williams in here. Then I want you to cut orders for Petty Officer Williams, sending her back to Falls Church on emergency leave. Make sure she's on the first available flight. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am. Ma'am, can I take it that the Petty Officer's husband survived ma'am?"

Mac looked surprised and a little irritated, "Why?"

"Well ma'am, it might help the way I look when I leave here?"

Mac gave her a measuring look and reflected that more than once she had thought that she could read her Yeoman's every thought by looking at her face. "You may be right. Petty Officer 2 Williams, is listed as WIA. I'll try and get hold of the General and try to get more news."

Jen left Mac's office and smiling in what she hoped was a reassuring manner at the two waiting to see Mac, she said, "There's a bit of delay, but the Colonel won't be too long in seeing you." Leaving the office she cut across the bull-pen to Lieutenant Walker's office and rapping on the doorframe she waited for the red-haired officer to look up and said, "The Colonel would like to see you in her office ASAP, ma'am."

Lieutenant Walker rose to her feet and with raised eyebrows, silently interrogated Jen, who replied "I really can't say, ma'am."

"Alright Petty Officer, I'll walk with you."

Reaching Mac's door, Jen knocked and waited for silence. Hearing nothing, she opened the door to see Mac on the 'phone and beckoning both her and Lieutenant Walker to come in. The two stood before her desk and waited for her to finish her 'phone call. It was only a minute or so before Mac finished scribbling on her message pad and said. "OK, Sergeant, got it. Thank you, and please thank the General for me."

Looking at Lieutenant Walker, she swiftly outlined situation and giving a sheet of paper to Jen she said, "That top number is the General's aide's number - a Sergeant Brewer, underneath that is Bethesda ER, and below that the American Red Cross office at Bethesda. As well as cutting orders and organising a flight, get on to the Red Cross, they're expecting you and are going to fix our Petty Officer up with somewhere to stay. Make sure when she leaves that she has this office's numbers, both daytime and the security desk for night, and make sure that you get a number from her. Remember Coates, although she only just got here, she's ours!"

Mac drew a breath, "I've just spoken to Sergeant Brewer, who has been chasing everybody in Virginia for details, or so it seems. Their Petty Officer Williams is one of the wounded, he is in critical condition, and they're going to have to amputate his arm. The surgeons are cautiously optimistic that he'll survive, but they're not promising anything. Now, is that all clear?"

"Yes, ma'am." Jen closed her eyes briefly, she had a terrible sense of déjà vu as she remembered hearing much the same words from the surgeon who had amputated Bud Robert's leg.

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Carry on."

The two "aye, aye, ma'am!"s were in perfect synchrony.

Jen opened the door and said, "Petty Officer Williams, front and centre!"

The young Petty Officer sprang to her feet and with her cover tucked under her left arm, shot a terrified look at Jen as she marched into Mac's office. Jen shut the door behind her. She took a breath and said, "Petty Officer Jackman, the Colonel says for you to get lost until eleven hundred hours. Go and get a coffee and a sandwich or something; do you know where the cafeteria is? Don't be late, today will not be a good day to upset the Colonel!"

Sticking her head out into the bull-pen, she asked the room at large, "Anyone seen PO Martin?"

"Over here, Petty Officer," A slightly out-of-breath Sam Martin pulled himself upright from where he had been kneeling behind a work station, trying to disentangle the rat's nest into which the computer, monitor and telephone cables had magically worked themselves.

"Can you come through, please, Petty Officer?"

Sam dusted off the knees of his white pants and made his way over to Jennifer. "What is it Jen?" he asked good-naturedly.

Jen felt uncomfortable, she and Sam still hadn't cleared the air between them after last week, but Sam really was the best man for the job she wanted doing. He was a solid, dependable, kindly and fatherly figure. One who could be trusted to act with sensitivity towards a worried young woman not much older than his own elder daughter, and to keep his mouth shut. Jen sighed and rapidly sketched out the circumstances. Sam looked troubled, and shook his head. "Of course I'll help, Jen, what do you want me to do?"

"Get a car from the motor pool, and stand-by to drive her wherever I tell you, because I don't know what sort of flight I can get her on. It may just be North Island, or the International, or it might have to be Miramar or even further. Is that OK with you?"

"Sure Jen, I'll get right on it." He grinned at her and walked off with his customary rolling gait.

Jen sat down at her desk, inhaled deeply and picked up the phone. She was vaguely aware of Lieutenant Walker passing her desk a couple of times, but was so immersed in the tasks that Mac had given her that she was unaware of anything else. After just over an hour of practically non-stop talking, Jen scribbled a last few words onto her note pad, stood and rapped on Mac's doorjamb. Waiting her customary two seconds she entered, Mac was busily talking quietly on the 'phone her free hand flying backwards and forwards as she scribbled on a legal pad. Lieutenant Walker was sitting in one of the two leather covered writing chairs, a miserable, scared looking, very pale and tear-stained young Petty Officer was sitting in the other, her elbows resting on her knees her hands so tightly clasped that her knuckles shone and shivering violently. Lieutenant Walker had a concerned look on her face as she looked at Williams.

As Jen stood waiting for Mac to finish on the phone, Lieutenant Walker looked at her and mouthed "Seven, now".

Jen closed her eyes in pain. After two years many of her old friends from Falls Church had changed stations, but she knew that there must be somebody there that she knew. Sergeant Brewer she knew only as a disembodied voice, but they had spoken so often in the course of their duties that she almost felt like a friend. Maxine Carpenter was still at Falls Church she knew, as was Lynn Wheeler, no longer, strictly speaking a friend, but still someone she knew. And of course Bud Roberts was still assigned there. Not Bud, please not Bud. He's suffered enough, and if anything happened to him it would destroy Harriett. Jen re-opened her eyes and looking at the red-haired officer nodded in the direction of Williams.

Lieutenant Walker shook her head and looking at Jen with real sadness in her eyes laid three fingers of her right hand over the back of her left wrist, indicating the rank of Commander.

Jen looked at the three fingers and then instinctively turned her head to look in the general direction of Commander Sturgess' office. Turning back to Lieutenant Walker she saw the officer nod her head sadly. Jen's mouth half-opened as if in protest, and her shoulders dropped as she exhaled in a long sigh.

As Mac finished on the 'phone, a fist rapped on the doorjamb, Jen turning to usher away any intruders saw a Chief Corpsmen with his medical pack waiting to enter. Lieutenant Walker spoke, indicating the shivering Petty Officer Williams, "Your patient's ovah heah, Chief."

"Yes, ma'am." He crossed the room and knelt next to the young Petty Officer, gave her a thorough visual inspection, and speaking soothingly he checked her pulse, respiration and temperature and blood pressure. She didn't resist, obeying his words silently and letting him lift her arm, and probe her ear with the thermometer. He looked around and seeing a glass of water on the side table, he took her hand and shook two pills into it, which he told her to swallow, holding the glass of water for her until she had done so.

Rising to his feet he became aware of the three different women observing him, but seeing Mac behind her desk, he turned to her as the senior officer present. "She's in shock, right enough ma'am. I've given her a couple of mild sedatives. She should be in bed, ma'am, by rights. Can she be taken back to her quarters?"

Petty Officer Williams looked up at his words and said, "No! I must go, I must!"

The Chief looked as if he were about to argue, but Mac cut him off, saying not unkindly, "Thank you Chief, for being so prompt. Your concerns and advice are noted, thank you, dismissed."

The Chief could only say, "Aye, aye, ma'am," which he did but in a tone that clearly indicated his worry over having his advice disregarded.

Lieutenant Walker laid a sympathetic hand on Williams' shoulder. "Take it easy, Petty Officer," she drawled in her slow West Texas accent, "There ain't nobody sendin' you nowhere you doan' wanna go".

Mac looked at her curiously for a few seconds, and then turned her head to look at Jen, "Well, Coates?"

"Ma'am, she's booked on United 484, departing fourteen hundred hours from San Diego International, arriving Ronald Regan at eighteen-forty hours PST, that's twenty-one-forty EST. Sergeant Brewer will have a car to pick her up and take her straight to Bethesda. She'll be met at Bethesda ER after she's spoken to the medics by a Red Cross rep, who'll take her across to guest housing. I've cut her an emergency leave pass for ten days, and Sergeant Brewer says the General will renew it at need, keeping you informed, and if it should become necessary, he will cancel her PCS orders and she can fill one of the billets…" Jen stopped, unsure of how to continue.

"Yes, go on Coates, it's alright."

"Yes, ma'am, thank you ma'am. Petty Officer Martin is standing by with a car to take her to San Diego Airport, ma'am."

"Thank you Coates. Good job."

"Yes, ma'am." Jennifer could no longer hold back the question she'd been burning to ask. "Ma'am, is there any word on Bud, I mean Commander Roberts ma'am?"

Mac smiled briefly, "Bud is fine Coates. Apparently he got a piece of glass through his leg, that's all, and has been, I quote, 'swearing enough to make a Marine DI blush'."

"His leg ma'am?"

"Yes, Coates his right leg!"

Jen grinned weakly, his right leg: his prosthetic!

Lieutenant Walker intervened, "Petty Officah, Coates, Iffen you can he'p me to get Petty Officah Williams heah down to th' cah, Petty Officah Ma'tin can get her ovah to th' barracks an' she can get her geah ready fo' th' flaaht."

Jen placed the orders and movement instructions in a manila envelope to hand to Sam Martin for Williams, and resolved to tell him to stay with her until she had gone into the boarding lounge at the airport. She had no confidence that the younger Petty Officer had understood any of the instructions she had been given.

Having given Sam Martin his final instructions Lieutenant and Petty Officer looked at each other. Jen said, "Ma'am, begging the Lieutenant's pardon, but I don't recall your accent being quite so heavy before?"

"No, I don't usually play it that much, but the slower and the more Texas I spoke, the better she responded to it. I figured it couldn't hurt."

"No, ma'am, I guess not. Ma'am did you really mean that Commander Sturgess had been killed?"

The petite Lieutenant's green eyes misted over, and she gave a defiant sniff, before she answered, "Petty Officer of course I meant he's really dead; I couldn't joke about that!"

"No ma'am, of course not ma'am, I just wondered if I had misunderstood!"

"No, Coates I'm afraid not. When you came in the Colonel was talking to the General about detailing Casualty Notification Officers to inform his wife." She paused, "I went to college with her. The Commander and I dated for a while before he joined the navy; that's how his wife met him, through me."

Jen didn't know how to answer that so she kept what she hoped would be interpreted as a sympathetic silence. The two turned and re-entered the building, and still in silence returned to the third floor.

As Jen headed back to her office Mac fell in alongside her, the Colonel had come from the direction of the women's room and looked slightly pale. Jen grinned sympathetically, "Again ma'am?"

"Just so, Petty Officer. It seems that while I was so busy with everything else this morning, my stomach forgot to kick in to overdrive, but as soon as I relaxed, it turned around and bit me on the ass!"

"I'm sorry ma'am. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Well, you might be able to do something. I know you make good coffee, how are you at brewing tea?"

"Tea, ma'am? I don't know. Don't you just put the bag in the cup and pour hot water over it?"

Mac pulled a face and sighed, "Never mind I'll do it myself until I can teach you!"

On regaining their offices, Mac paused and said, "Get on to Sergeant Brewer, please, Coates, and get a full casualty list, she said that she would have one as at ten-hundred hours, and she'll notify us of any changes." She looked grim, "With ten still MIA rescue efforts are being made, but from what the General and Sergeant Brewer have said, there was extensive damage to the front of the building, and there's a lot of rubble to be cleared." Mac shrugged and closed the door of her office behind her. She hadn't said it, but it was evident that she expected that there would be few more survivors pulled from the rubble, if any, and that the current rescue attempt would shortly become a corpse recovery operation.

Jen was about to pick up the 'pone to call Sergeant Brewer when she realised that the hum of work and conversation in the bull-pen had died away. Looking out of her office door, she saw that the bull-pen staff had drifted away from their desks and were concentrating their attention on the bank of TV monitors mounted high on the walls; a female voice could be heard:

"… Well, Gina, rescue work continues here at Falls Church, the site of a devastating explosion at Navy Judge Advocate General's Headquarters. The Navy still isn't saying much, except that a little before ten-thirty this morning an explosion occurred in a US Navy building here in Falls Church, Virginia. The Navy confirms that there have been some casualties, but tell us they are withholding the names of those casualties until their families have been informed. Naval and civilian paramedics are on the scene, and we have seen a stream of ambulances taking those casualties to a nearby Naval medical facility. The front of the building, as you can see, has been badly damaged, and rescue teams are searching the rubble for survivors. We will stay on top of this story, and bring you further news as it reaches us. This is Lucy Draper for ZNN News, Falls Church, Virginia."

As the news segment ended somebody used the remote to kill the sound, but rather than dispersing as Jen had expected the crowd seemed unable to move and stayed in place, some staring at the now-silent monitor. Some staring at the ground, others gazing into space. Jen was about to suggest that they returned to work, when she was startled by a familiar female voice, but one with a crack in it she had never heard before.

"Attention on deck! This is not a good day for goofing off! All of you, get back to your desks and get back to work. Now!"

Jen looked around for the source of the voice as the assembly dispersed, she had recognised the voice! It was the pretty, blonde and usually quietly spoken Public Affairs Lieutenant, Catherine Graves. Who she now realised was glaring at her. Jen made a helpless gesture with one hand which together with her raised eyebrows, asked the Lieutenant why?

Lieutenant Graves approached her and said, "Are you having hearing problems, Petty Officer?"

"No, ma'am, I was just going out there to tell them to get back to their desks, when you did it for me." Jen paused, her eyes troubled, "Ma'am, weren't you a bit hard on them?"

Catherine Graves looked at her and Jen saw that her eyes were also shadowed. "Petty Officer, this is a bad day for all of us. Most of us have friends, or have spoken on the 'phone to people, at Falls Church. I know we are all anxious, and want to find out more. But until there is official news, through channels, then listening to slick pieces of half-truths is not the way. If there is need there will be a proper time and place for grief. At the moment softness and sympathy is not the way to go; our people needed to be reminded that they are still in the Navy

"I see, ma'am, thank you. I'd best be getting back to my own work then, or the Colonel will have my ass!"

Picking up the 'phone she dialed Sergeant Brewer's cell number, and with pencil and paper to hand and with heavy heart she started to write a list of names.

She had barely finished before PO Jackman returned for his Commanding Officer's interview. Jen stood and said, "I guess I don't have to explain, do I?"

"No Petty Officer. The other Petty Officer, the one joined with me today, is she…?" He stopped, not knowing how to frame his question without sounding over-inquisitive.

Jen considered briefly, and deciding that there was bound to be speculation over the other girl's sudden disappearance said, "Yes, her husband's one of the wounded; we don't know yet if he's going to make it. So she's gone back to DC to be with him." Better she thought that if there was to be scuttlebutt it might as well start with the most accurate intel there was.

"Are you ready sailor?"

"Ready, aye"

Jen took a breath and rapped on Mac's doorjamb, "Petty Officer Jackman, ma'am!"

Jen returned to work but with a strange sense of dislocation. It seemed wrong, somehow, to just be working on routine when so much had gone so wrong. Her loss of focus wasn't helped when Alison Brewer called to tell her to let the Colonel know that a further two bodies, one male and one female had been recovered from the rubble in Falls Church.

Jen thought, for a very short space of time, about lunch but decided she really couldn't face food, but that fresh air might be welcome. She had just risen from her desk, when Mac's voice on the inter-phone called her in to the office.

Mac was gathering together her purse and cover. She was, Jen noted with concern, looking drawn and grey again.

"Oh, don't look so worried Coates. This time I can recognise the warning signs. I'm not going risk getting all worked up again, so I'm calling it a day. You'll be picking up Mattie and bringing her back to Lemon Grove?" she waited for Jen's nod of agreement, and then continued, "I've told Commander Coleman to cover for me this afternoon - she doesn't know why I'm going home; and I've called Sergeant Brewer and given her my home landline and my cell numbers if the General needs me."

"Very well, ma'am. Ma'am, are you fit to drive? I could drive you, or get someone else?"

"No, no thank you Petty Officer, I'll be fine."

Yes, thought Jen, you might be, but what about all the others on the road. Damn! She thought, as the Colonel made her way across the bull-pen.

Three o'clock came in its own slow time; Jen with a sense of relief powered down her computer, but not having the energy for a possible confrontation with Commander Coleman, told Gutierrez that if anyone asked for her, she was at the MedCen. And they can think anything they damn-well like, she told herself silently.

Mattie's Tuesday afternoon schedule included gym class. When she had first transferred to the school, Coach Morgan, the girls' gym teacher and sports coach has suggested that instead of either just sitting in the library or on the sidelines of the gym and watching the others, that Mattie would benefit from mild exercise to help her recover the full use of her upper limbs and trunk. Mattie's Physical Therapist, suspicious of what she thought of as unqualified help, had grudgingly at first helped draw up a set of exercises that Mattie could carry out from her wheelchair. The results of these exercise linked to the answers Mattie had given to a close cross-examination, conducted by Physical Therapist and Marine Corps Lawyer, had convinced the Therapist that the Coach did have some idea of what she was doing and did have Mattie's best interest at heart, and as Mattie regained some limited use of her legs, the Therapist had once again entered into what a sometimes tired Mattie described as the Unholy Alliance with Mac and the coach and had devised more exercises for Mattie to work on.

This afternoon Mattie had completed an exercise that had been defeating her for weeks, she had climbed one of the gym ropes and touched the beam on which it was suspended and climbed back down without falling or sliding. She climbed into the car glowing with satisfaction in her achievement and could hardly wait to boast of her achievement to Jen. Jen tried to listen attentively and to respond to Mattie's enthusiasm, but while she couldn't be said to be grieving, and much as she loved Mattie, and would normally have been as excited as Mattie; although she congratulated Mattie on her feat, and truly meant it, she somehow couldn't shake off the sense of oppression that had settled over her.

Mattie, her own excitement dampened by Jen's apparent lack of enthusiasm and support quickly lapsed into silence and with bruised sensitivities brooded for most of the short journey to Bob Wilson Avenue. Jen parked just across from the main doors, for once having been able to get close enough to suit Mattie without having to use a slot reserved for the disabled and swung out of the car. She was surprised when Mattie made no move to climb of the passenger door, and asked her, "Mattie, are you coming?"

Mattie merely said, "No."

It was the tone of the voice as much as the flat nature of the answer that dismayed Jen and sent her hurrying around to the other side of the car. "What is it, sweetheart? What's wrong?"

"You are!" snapped the aggrieved teenager, "You're pissed at me, because I'm going back home to Mac aren't you?"

"No, of course I'm not, I told you that yesterday."

"Yeah, well you had to say that in front of Mac, didn't you!"

"Well," Jen replied slowly, carefully and thoughtfully, "I guess, in a way that you could think that. But I wasn't pissed at you then, and I'm not pissed at you now. Well, I am a little bit, but not because you're going back home. I don't see it as a choice between me and Mac, but as you going back where you belong and where you're needed. You do that Mattie every time, did you know that? You go where you're needed. You came to me when I was scared for Fran, when I was scared to be on my own just worrying about her; you came to me when I needed you, and you helped me, oh, so much. And now, Mac needs you to be there for her, and that's where you decided to go; not back to Mac, not even back home, but where you are needed."

"So why are you pissed at me?"

"Because, my wonderful little kinda-sister, you're acting like a not-so-wonderful little brat, so c'mon and get out of that damn car will you!"

A relieved Mattie received this rebuke with one of her sunniest smiles and pulled herself out of the car, and carefully pretended not to see while Jen blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes. As the two crossed the patio in front of the doors Mattie said, "I was pissed at you Jen."

Jen looked at her inquiringly and said, "Yes?"

"Yeah, it's like maybe climbing a rope is no big deal for you. I mean that's what sailors do isn't it? But I've been trying climb that sucker for weeks. Do you know how to climb a rope, Jen?"

"Sure I do, you grab it above your head, and you trap the rope between your feet. You pull with your arms, and then you push with your legs… Oh! Mattie!" the extent of Mattie's success finally leaped into Jen's mind as she formed a mental picture of rope-climbing, "I'm so sorry! You climbed a rope! You did?" The second half of Jen's description of climbing was in an excited half-shout that drew the attention of onlookers, who were treated to the spectacle of a US Navy female Petty Officer hugging a teenage girl.

After a welter of "I'm sorrys" from Jen and "It's OKs" from Mattie, she turned to Jen and asked, "So what put an itch where you couldn't reach it?"

Although she half-smiled at the picture Mattie's metaphor conjured up, Jen remained grave, "We had some bad news today at work. There's been an explosion back at the JAG offices in Falls Church. Some people we know have been hurt, hurt bad."

Mattie looked up concern in her eyes and asked haltingly, "Jen, were any of them… I mean was anyone…you, know?"

"Yes, Mattie some of them were killed, but nobody you know. Well not as far as we know, they haven't been able to account for everybody yet."

Mattie's eyes grew round as she took in the possible implications of Jen's words. "Oh Jen I'm so sorry. You had that going in your head, and you let me slide for being a brat? You should have slapped me silly and dragged me out of the car by the hair!"

Jen smiled at thought of trying to drag Mattie out of the car in such a way, in the parking lot of a busy public building! Never mind what Mattie's reaction might have - would have - been! She turned to Mattie and said, "One of these days Matilda Grace, I'm going to sit you down for about thirty-'leven hours and list, one by one, all the reasons that I love you!"

"All the reasons? In only thirty-'leven hours?"

"Yeah, but I'm a fast talker!"

Friendship and a measure of good humour restored, Jen and Mattie made their way to the elevator bank to ride up to the third floor. They had to share the car up to the second floor, but as the other two passengers left the elevator, Mattie looked skywards and muttered "Amen, to that." The memory of that last ride nearly provoked another giggling storm, and it was with smiles on faces that they knocked on the doorjamb to Fran's room.

Fran was out of bed, sitting in an easy chair her hands plunged deep into the pockets of the dressing gown in which she was wrapped and that Jen estimated was at least two sizes too big for her. She was also wrapped in a smile that Jen calculated was at least three sizes too big for her.

Jen couldn't bring herself to spoil her friend's evident happiness and shooting a warning glance at Mattie, she perched on the end of the bed and asked her, "OK, what, or should it be who has been scratching your itch?"

Fran blushed and had the grace to look guilty. Jen looked at her in amazement and gasped, indicating the bed, "Fran! You didn't! Not here!"

"No, we didn't. I wanted to but Tim was too nervous!" and blushed an even deeper red.

Mattie, who just picked up the innuendo also blushed and exclaimed "Wow! No way!"

"No it wasn't that," protested a still smiling and still crimson Fran. "The doctors have told me I can go home tomorrow. And," she added with heavy emphasis, "They told mom and dad, that I'd have to stay local to continue with my meds. So, no Wisconsin for me this fall. They've put me on medical leave for three weeks, and they'll give me a review after that and see if I can return to limited duty status or have to take more medical leave." She turned to Mattie and said, "I know you've been keeping my bed at home warm, Matts, but I'm going to kick you out!"

"Oh, you don't need to," Mattie smiled, "I moved out this morning."

"Why?" asked Fran, confused.

"I'm psychic, didn't you know?" said Mattie, and then as Fran looked at her blankly, dissolved into giggles.

"Pay no attention to her Fran," Jen advised, "She's going because she's a pain the ass; I've kicked her out and she's had to beg Mac to let her move back to Lemon Grove!"

"Oh… you… you…"

"Liar?" suggested Jen, breaking into laughter, in which Mattie joined whole-heartedly

Fran who had no idea what had sparked the laughter looked back and forth between them with a growing sense that the pair of them had gone mad. Their laughter was only stifled, when a nurse, a sympathetic smile on her face despite her disapproving words, cautioned them to keep it down, reminding them that they were in a hospital.

"So, as I shall be returning to the bosom of my _friends _tomorrow," Fran said with tremendous dignity and heavy irony, "would you be so kind as to take this home for me now, so that I won't have so much to carry." She leaned over to her left to pick up a small holdall that had been lying unnoticed beside her chair, and held it out to Jen. Jen smiled and automatically held out her own hand to take it; as she did so she exclaimed in shock, "Fran! What is that? Where did _that_ come from?" despite her words she was gazing at her friend's hand with a mixture of happiness and amazement.

Mattie followed the direction of Jen's eyes and saw on Fran's hand a ring; it had only a single, small, clear stone, but the look on Fran's face plainly said that she didn't care a damn that it wasn't the size of the Koh I Noor.

Mattie stammered, "Fran… is… is that an… engagement ring?"

"Yes", beamed an ecstatic Fran, holding her hand out so the other two could admire the ring "Tim asked me yesterday, and he looked so miserable when I kept him waiting - just for a couple of seconds, you know - that I said yes."

"That explains yesterday's mystery… sort of." said Jen, a puzzled frown on her forehead, "but hold on, I saw you before Tim did, and you told me then that you had a secret that you weren't going to tell me. Fran, you're not pregnant as well are you?"

"No I'm not," sighed Fran and then added with a grin, "but the minute we're married we'll be trying our damndest to be. I'm told it can take a lot of practice to get that bit just right - well I certainly hope it does!" Then the last couple of Jen's words clicked, "As well as who? You're not pregnant are you Jen? Not _you_ Mattie?"

Jen shot Mattie a swift warning look. "No Fran, not as well as 'who', but as well as being engaged. No, I was just trying to get my head around why you were so excited yesterday."

"Oh," Fran said, smiling shyly, "I had a sorta feeling he would. It was something he said when I was real sick, you know? He thought I was asleep, and he sorta said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me… and I just had a feeling that he was going to ask. And that's why I didn't… couldn't say anything much yesterday, and that's why I was so miserable over the weekend, I thought he'd changed his mind, and then you said he was in the brig and that was why he didn't visit with me, so I was just so happy he hadn't just up and headed for the tall timber, but then he got the Article 15, and then… and I'm babbling aren't I? But, oh, Jen I'm so happy!"

"Oh, yeah? You coulda fooled me! Congratulations Fran. I am so happy for you!"

"Yeah me too," Mattie contributed, wriggling across the bed so she could hug Fran, "Congratulations!"

A further twenty minutes passed in Fran's projected plans for a happy future that seems to consist of rose-covered cottages, kids and puppies, but then she sighed and said, "I know it's not really going to be like that, I'm not that dumb, honest, but Jen, Matts, I just wish it could be. But," she said, brightening again, "we'll try our damndest to make it so."

"I thought you were going to try your damndest to… well you know," teased Mattie, moving her hands in an exaggerated arc in front of her stomach.

"Jen!" Cried a pretending-to-be-scandalised Fran, half-laughing and half-protesting, "will you get that… that creature out of here before my Tim comes and she corrupts him!"

"Yes, it's about time! C'mon you unprincipled brat!"

The pair made their laughing farewells and left Fran to her contentment, on the way to the elevators they passed the nurses' station and Jen paused to apologise for the noise they had made explaining that PO Neumann was on a bit of an emotional high right now. The nurse smiled and said, "Petty Officer, that was nothing, you should have heard her when he asked her yesterday!"

Still smiling Jen and Mattie walked towards the elevators, Mattie still chattering, but as she noticed that Jen's smile had faded and that she was becoming absorbed gain, she asked, "Jen, what is it? Are you thinking about that explosion again?"

Jen pressed the button to call the elevator and said, "This morning Mattie, we had a new Petty Officer arrive on re-assignment from Falls Church. She had to be re-assigned because she'd just gotten married, six weeks ago to another Petty Officer at JAG HQ, and the Navy won't let married couples serve together in the same chain of command So she was sent here and her husband was waiting for re-assignment to another command here in San Diego. He was hurt, badly hurt, in the explosion. She'd only just got here, and we had to turn her around and send her straight back to DC on emergency leave. Mattie, she's still only twenty, she's been married for only six weeks. I am happy for Fran, but what if something happens to Tim?"

Mattie looked stunned, "Jen, have you been carrying this around with you all day? And I threw a hissy fit 'cause you didn't seem interested in my climbing some dumb rope? Dammit Jen, you should have slapped me for being such a selfish little bitch!"

Jen caught her in a tight hug and said into the thick red curls, "Just you saying that makes you into a not-bitch! It's OK to be selfish sometimes." and releasing a furiously blushing teenager, added "a little bit anyway."

There was no constraint in the silence that filled the drive to Lemon Grove, but each the occupants of the old Escort were absorbed in their own thoughts. As Jen pulled over to the kerbside, Mattie asked, "I expect Mac knows all about Falls Church?"

"Yes, of course she does. She got the call direct from the general and had to tell all of us."

"Should I ask her about it?"

Jen thought before answering, her fingers tapping the steering wheel rim. "If Mac thinks there is something you need to know, she'll tell you I should think. You could, I suppose tell her you know about it, it's been on ZNN, so it's no big secret, but I wouldn't go teasing her with questions. We did know one of the guys who were killed; he was on TAD from here, so it might be a kinda sensitive subject?"

"Uh-huh, yeah I get it… sort of. But I could tell her about Fran though, right?"

"Well, yes, you could…"

"Do I hear a but coming up?"

"Yes. A guy, or a girl even, in the navy doesn't have to ask permission nowadays to get married. It's considered to be good manners to tell your command before you do, but it's not necessary. And although Mac has met Fran off duty - our apartment, I mean - and she's met Tim, she's still Fran's CO, so it makes it kinda awkward. I'm going to leave this one up to you Mattie. But before you decide one way or another, ask yourself, if Mac didn't know them, and they were just your friends, would you tell her?"

"I don't know… I might… I suppose if I thought the time was right… and if she didn't have other stuff happening, but I probably wouldn't make a whole thing out of it."

"There you go then, you've answered your own question. C'mon, you open the door, and I'll get your stuff out if the trunk.

Mattie went on ahead, leaving Jen to follow with the wheelchair loaded with the two hold-alls and her school bag. Manoeuvering the awkward vehicle across the threshold made sufficient noise to bring Mac from the lounge, where for the last hour she had divided her attention between ZNN updates and 'phone calls to Sergeant Brewer, in an attempt to keep herself up with events in Falls Church.

"Come on in Petty Officer, there's no coffee on, but you know where it is if you want it. Or," she added, I could start your lessons in brewing a decent cup of tea?"

"No, thanks; to both, if you don't mind, ma'am. I can only stay for a few minutes; I've a lot needs doing at home. We just found out that Petty Officer Neumann is coming home from hospital tomorrow, so I need to make sure everything's set for her. She's still pretty wheezy, and I don't want her to overdo things." Jan paused, "I'm glad I did call though, because there are a couple things I did want."

Mac looked at her curiously, and catching the faintest flicker of her eyes towards Mattie said, "Mattie, don't leave your things lying 'round the hall, take them upstairs please!"

Mattie gathered her bags, but said, "Yeah. Right. What you mean is you want to talk to Jen without my ears being in the way!"

Mac's cool, "Mattie, you know me so well!" brought a glare from Mattie and a smile from Jen.

Jen continued, "Well ma'am, first I wanted to make sure and see if you were feeling any better since lunchtime? You do look better, ma'am. You were looking a bit grey."

"Yes, I'm feeling a bit better, thank you Coates. I managed over three hours of rest, between bathroom visits. No. not that… well, once was… but my bladder seems to have shrunk, and the pressure keeps me awake… but yes, I'm doing better." The two women smiled before Mac continued, "and I can guess the second question…Falls Church."

Her smile now completely vanished, Jen answered soberly, "Yes, ma'am, any fresh news?"

Mac sighed, "Yes, sit down Petty Officer. I've spent the best part of the last hour speaking with Sergeant Brewer and the General. It's not looking too good; they haven't found any more survivors but they have pulled two more bodies out of the rubble. Both were too badly burned to make any ID, but they think they are both male. They're waiting for a response from the armed Forces DNA register to make an ID. General Creswell has set up an emergency Office in the Navy Yard at DC, but it's obviously going to take time to get the office back up and running. There's going to have to be a lot of re-assignments. General Cresswell has already cut orders for Commander Blaine to PCS back to DC, and we're both going to have to look at JAG assignment both worldwide and shipboard and see who if anyone we can re-assign to DC and now we're down two JAGs, to here as well."

Jen sat quietly absorbing Mac's news before saying quietly, "So, that's eleven dead, now ma'am?"

"Yes, Petty Officer, eleven." They sat silently until Mac spoke again, "I've spoken to the ER at Bethesda, they're very concerned about PO Williams, he's now on the VSI list, and they are trying to keep him alive until his wife arrives. I had Sergeant Brewer check his records for me, Petty Officer. He's twenty-two, just twenty-two. What were they thinking, those two? Getting married so young, they're no more than babies themselves!"

Jen nodded in agreement, even though she hadn't known the husband's age she had been thinking much the same thing about the young wife. Wife hell! She was still a bride! She just hoped that Williams wasn't already a widow.

Jen realised that if she stayed she and Mac would end up feeding off each other's melancholy, they would have to cope with this at work for a long time she thought, but at least there will be other people around to break into any dangerously gloomy introspection. She sighed and picked up her purse and cover, saying, "Ma'am, I need to go, I need to get out of this uniform and take a shower. But before I go, you should know that Mattie knows about Falls Church. She might tell you that she heard it on the news, but I told her. After all, she knows Commander Roberts, so I figured she had a right. But if she gets too down, ma'am, you might want to ask her about her day. I know she's got one piece of good news!"

"Thank you, Petty Officer. It's good to know it isn't all doom and gloom."

Jen sat silently in the car, trying to decide what she might do. All at once she didn't feel like spending the entire evening alone, but at the same time she didn't like the thought of visiting any of the local bars in Ocean beach on her own. She had told Mac that she needed to get the apartment ready for Mac, but she and Mattie had given the place a pretty good turning out last night, and they had put fresh laundered sheets on the bed this morning. She had a uniform ready for tomorrow, so there really wasn't much she needed to do at home. She could. She thought go and see a movie, but having someone to watch a movie with was half the fun, Still at a loss, and sighing deeply, she turned the key in the ignition, engaged the gears and headed for Ocean Beach.

Arriving at Cape May Avenue she saw that Sally Cameron's car was parked outside the building, but not Tony's SUV. Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel - something she unconsciously did when thinking - she came to decision and gunned the engine, heading for 'Chris' Liquor Store' on the corner of West Point Loomis and Sunset Cliffs, where she bought a large bottle of mineral water, a bottle of mid range Chablis and four plain roast beef on whole-meal sandwiches. Returning to Cape May, she parked, and entering the building took the elevator to the second floor, where she nervously knocked on the Camerons' door.

Sally Cameron opened the door to the limit of the security chain and seeing that Jen was alone, said, "Hold on just a second." and pulled the door closed. Jen heard the sound of the chain being released and then the door was opened. Sally Cameron smiled warmly, "Jen, Come on in, it's good to see you."

"Uh, actually I just stopped by to ask if you'd mind me visiting with you this evening? I need to go and shake off the dust, but if you don't mind, I could use some grown-up company this evening."

Sally gave Jen a quick searching look, and replied, "Of course, I'll look forward to it. Have you eaten yet?"

"Thanks, Sally, I've got my dinner with me. In fact," she smiled rather bashfully, "I hoped you'd say it was OK, so I brought enough for two, I think."

Sally grinned in reply and said "Well, OK, if that's the way you want it, what time do want to come down?"

"Uh… is half-an-hour OK?" asked Jen.

"Sure… I'll see you then."

Sally watched Jen take the elevator, and closed the door. She stared at it and then told it, "Damn! There's something troubling that girl!"

Jen was as good as, or even slightly better than her word, she'd been gone just twenty-seven minutes when she returned to the Camerons' apartment, in slacks and sweater, her hair caught back in a damp pony-tail.

When she presented Sally with the sandwiches and mineral water, she made a pretence of hiding the wine saying, "I figured we could share the sandwiches, the mineral water's for you, but this bad baby is all mine!"

"Come on in Jen, and take the weight off." Sally invited her. "I am really glad you decided to stop by. We had a quiet cosy evening planned, and then Tony got called in. It really gets me sometimes, you know? But, I suppose it's the same for him when I get a call in the middle of our supposed down-time."

She grinned ruefully while she spoke, and had guided Jen over to the lounge area; the Camerons' apartment, like Jen's apartment, being mostly open plan.

Jen poured herself a generous measure of wine before she replied, "Oh I'm sorry; that's got to be a real bummer, getting all set and then getting disappointed." Jen rather uncharacteristically found herself at loss of what to say. Or rather, she knew what she wanted to say to someone, anyone, but didn't know how to say it to a comparative stranger. And to cover her confusion plunged on, nervously aware that she was beginning to babble, but unable to help herself, "and do you get called out very often?"

"Yes," Sally replied, "but it's part of the price we pay for doing a job we love," she paused and chuckled, "we certainly don't do it for the money!"

"But Tony's a doctor, a surgeon isn't he? I thought doctors were… well, you know."

Sally chuckled, and pushed the plate of sandwiches towards Jen, "You'd better have one of these, if you're going to drink on an empty stomach." She indicated Jen's glass now only about a third full. Jen stared at it aghast, she only remembered raising it to her lips once; surely she hadn't sucked up all that in one sip? She put the glass down with a shudder and said, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean… I didn't know I'd taken so much all at once…" and then recovering, she asked, with a fair attempt to restore normality to her voice, "You said something about doing the job for love…"

"Yes," interjected Sally, coming to her rescue, "and you were asking about doctors, but when I said 'we' I wasn't talking about Tony and me, I was talking about cops… and probably about the military too. I don't figure a sailor's paycheck is much heavier than a cop's?" That was definitely a question, Jen thought.

"Mmmff" she mumbled through a mouthful of roast beef and whole-meal bread; shaking her head, and swallowing fiercely, she managed "No, it's not over-generous, that's why most sailors living off-base have to share apartments. Not always with people that you really would want to share with. I could tell you some real horror stories about apartment sharing back in DC. When I was back east, apartments in the DC area and Virginia were just so expensive that there were four of us crammed into an apartment no bigger than this I swear! Here, I only have to share with Fran, who's a real sweetie," she grinned, "you haven't seen her at her best yet, but she'll be home tomorrow." She paused and idly ran her forefinger around the rim of her wine glass, to see if she could make it sing, and then looked back up and across the table to Sally and added shyly, "she's part of my reason for coming here this evening. She won't be fully fit for a while and they've put her on three weeks' medical leave, locally, so she can attend out-patients and get her meds, I know you work shifts, and I was wondering if you were at home in the daytime, when I'm at work you could…"

"Jen, I'd be glad to look in on her. You worry about her don't you?"

Jen nodded silently.

"I reckon you're a good friend to have Jennifer Coates, and your Fran is lucky to have you as one." She considered carefully, and then decided to take the plunge. "But it's not just that Fran being on her own that bothers you is it?"

Jen, normally reticent with strangers found herself confiding in the woman sitting opposite, "No… I went to visit Fran today, she was so happy. Her boyfriend, Tim… you remember him? Well, he proposed to her yesterday evening and she said yes."

"That should be a happy thing Jen, aren't you happy for her?"

"Well yes, I am, or I guess I should be, but I'm scared for her too; Tim is a Marine. He could get orders for deployment tomorrow… We had this girl, a kid really, just twenty years old, she arrived today on assignment…"

And Jen, before she really knew what she was saying, was telling Sally the story of the explosion at Falls Church and Petty Officer Williams and about her own fears of a similar event overtaking Fran and Tim…

Jen finished her story, and Sally reached out across the table and took one of Jen's hands in her own, saying "Yes, life can be tough, and I hope that your young Petty Officer and her husband get through this. But don't think me unfeeling when I say, that if he hadn't been caught in this explosion, then he might have been hit by a car, or fallen downstairs and broken his neck. Jen, practically every week I have to go and visit someone and tell them that their husband, their wife, their son, daughter, brother, sister, whatever, is never coming home to them again. So, however hard it is to face Jen, death is a part of life, and no-one, not even you can guarantee that Fran and Tim won't have to face tragedy."

For a few seconds Jen hated Sally for her common sense, for saying what was true, and then as she absorbed the sense behind the older woman's words, she dumbly nodded her head, her eyes full of tears and her throat too choked to speak.

Sally sat and kept hold of Jen's hand, trying still to offer comfort, but also trying to let the silence say it for her. Jen finally withdrew her hand and fumbled in her pocket for the small pack of tissues she habitually carried. She mopped her eyes and blew her nose.

"I'm sorry, Sally, I don't know what's come over me the last few days, I'm not usually such a watering-pot, but ever since I got back from my Chief's course, it seems that the smallest little thing sets me off!"

Sally thought for a while and said, "Well, from you've told me and from what I know, with Fran, with Mattie, with work, it seems you've had to try and deal with a helluva a lot on your own, and it may be that you're just overwhelmed. It's sorta stress-related. I guess that before Fran was sick that you two used to unload on each other?" Jen nodded, "but I'll bet that you tried to shield Mattie, and you didn't dump on her? and," Sally was remorseless, "There's no-one at work who you feel comfortable enough with to talk."

Jen gazed at her with wide eyes and an open mouth, recovering slightly, she asked with an attempt at lightness, "How did you get to be so damn' smart?"

Sally said, "I married a really smart guy, and some if it kinda rubbed off on me!"

The tension broken, Sally poured a half-glass of wine for Jen, "Damn' I wish I could have some of that too, but," and she half closed her eyes, looking at Jen lazily, "I'm too damn' smart!"

Jen barely stifled a giggle, oh crap, she thought, just how much _have_ I had to drink? Looking at the bottle she was surprised to see that it was still about two-thirds full. She looked across at Sally and was startled to see a slight frown on her face. "Is something wrong?" she asked, surprise evident in her voice.

"Jen, don't think that I'm prying, or if you do think I'm being a nosey neighbour, then just tell me to butt the hell out, but I was thinking about what you just said about being weepy the whole time, and now seeing you with that glass, and wishing I could have one too, I just had a thought; is it possible that you're pregnant? It seemed to me that Mattie was about to say something the other night when she found out that I was, and I just wondered."

Jen smiled bitterly, "Not unless there's been another immaculate conception that nobody's told me about! Sally, it's been so long..." she sighed. "The only man I've been interested in a very long time has been in love with another woman for as long as I've known him. I'm over him now, but there's no-one else in the picture. I did want it you know; I wanted all of it, a career, a good man, a couple of kids. I told that to my boss once; she told me that just made me normal. I told her I'd settle for two out of three." She sighed again, completely unaware that she sounded hopeless and helpless.

Sally stared at her with a blend of shock, compassion, and disbelief. The beautiful young woman sat opposite her didn't realise that she was still in love with a guy who wasn't available, who was probably unaware of her existence and she was breaking her heart over him; She didn't even know it, Sally thought, and despite her friends, Fran, Mattie, Tim, probably scores of others and even the mysterious Mac, Jen was lonely.

Sally wriggled into a more comfortable position on the couch, acknowledging to herself that it wouldn't be too long before she wasn't able to tuck her feet up under her.

"Tell me Jen, you're not a native Californian, and I know you're in the navy, but how did you end up here in San Diego, what's the full story, what's the intel on Petty Officer Jennifer Coates?"

Jen laughed, thankful for the change of subject and mood, and embarked on a slightly edited version of her biography, and if she didn't notice how often she said, "and then Harm said," or "Harm thought," or "then Harm and me", Sally did.

The two of them were still sitting talking quietly when the door opened over an hour later, and Tony Cameron returned home. Without hesitation or the slightest sign of self-consciousness, he plumped down on the couch next to his wife, kissed her thoroughly - to Jen's slight embarrassment - and shamelessly begged a sandwich and a glass of wine. Taking a huge bite of the sandwich and washing it down with a gulp of the wine, he turned to Jen, and let the grin fade from his face. He asked her, "Jen, I'd like to talk about Mattie for a minute, if that's OK?" Jen, a bit dubiously, slowly nodded her assent, "I got the impression over dinner on Sunday, that she's using sticks because of her injury and not because it's congenital."

"Yes, that's right; she injured her neck in the crash we told you about."

"Her neck?"

"Yes, the doctors were afraid that she had... transected her spinal cord at C4. After she came out of her coma, she was paralysed from the neck down for, oh, weeks and weeks, and then she got the use of her arms back and they could take her off the ventilator. Harm said the time she was on that thing was the only time she stopped talking!" She smiled at the memory of the utter relief they had both felt when Mattie was at last able to breathe on her own.

Those two words again, Sally thought, 'Harm said'.

Tony looked at Jen his face a study in concentration, "Jen, let's get this absolutely clear, please. Mattie's injuries were to her neck?" Jen nodded.

"But she got back the use of her arms and her body after she had been temporarily paralysed?" Jen nodded again.

"What sort of hospital was it that Mattie was taken to?"

Jen thought, fighting to remember the name of the hospital where she and Harm had spent so many anxious hours "It was Blacksburg hospital, a normal type county hospital I suppose. We weren't very interested in the name; we were more interested in our little girl getting better."

Sally again took a mental note 'we' and 'our little girl', indeed.

"Jen, do you know if after they diagnosed her neck injury, they looked any further?"

"No, I don't. Why?"

"Well, I was watching her the other evening, and there was something in the way she walks, something in the way her feet droop, that triggered a memory. So I had a look at a couple of text books. I think that there's a very good chance that Mattie also injured her spine lower down in her back."

"Wouldn't the other doctors have seen that?"

"Not necessarily, not if they weren't looking for it, and not if their CT or MRI scanners were pretty old models, and from what you've said about the hospital, that might be the case."

"Yes, I suppose so, but she's been seen by a Physical Therapist here at the Navy MedCen, for nearly two years."

"Uh-huh, but when she started seeing him, she was still in a wheelchair, still trying to get the use of her arms back?"

"Yes, I guess."

"What I'd like to do, is have Mattie come to Hillcrest, we've got just about the most up-to-date MRI scanners in the country, and I like to a look at her neck just to make sure that's OK now, and then take another look at her lower back, you see, from the way Mattie moves I think the problem is in the lumbar area of her spine, and no higher. If I'm right, I say _if_ I'm right, there's a chance Mattie might be able to throw away her sticks and get to Annapolis after all! I flatter myself that I'm a pretty good neuro-surgeon, and although there's no guarantee, there is a chance. What do you think?"

"I think that would be wonderful! It would be up to Harm and Mattie to decide but of course, but I can't think they'd even think of saying no" Jen exclaimed, and then her face fell, "Mattie is covered at the MedCen by Mac's navy dependents' medical insurance, I don't know whether she and Harm could afford private treatment," she ended doubtfully.

"But, if something could be worked out...?" Tony suggested.

"Oh they must say yes!" exclaimed Jen, "I know Mattie keeps saying she's going to the academy, but I'm sure she feels in her heart that right now, that's not going to happen! Oh, damn!" she blushed and said "sorry, about the language, I've just remembered; I don't know if it's important, for you to know, but Mattie climbed a rope in gym class today!"

"I don't know if that is important in itself," Tony answered with a smile, "but it is important because it tells us that there is some life and strength in Mattie's legs. And that Miss Coates is a very good sign!"

Jen felt immeasurably cheered by her evening spent with Tony and Sally, not just because of Tony's offer to try and help Mattie, but even beforehand, when she had told Sally so much about herself. She hadn't been able to be that open to anyone since her mother died, not even Fran. She was completely unaware, that Sally had learned more about her from what she had not said.

Lying in bed together with Tony, Sally laid her arm over his chest and snuggled down beside him, laying her head on his shoulder. "We've got to help that girl," she said.

Tony bent his head towards her and just managed to plant a kiss on her temple, "Well, we'll wait and see what the MRI scans show us before we know whether we can," he replied.

"Not Mattie, Jen!" Sally exclaimed.

"Why, what's wrong with Jen," he asked in surprise.

"It's a girl thing, you wouldn't understand. Now, put that book down and make love to me before I get too big!"

He turned to face her, smiled tenderly, and said, "My mommy always told me to be a good boy and do what the policeman says."

Mac had spent the evening talking with Mattie. She had tried to explain in the least alarming way possible about her endometriosis, how it affected her body, how it made getting pregnant highly unlikely in the first place and what the possible effects on any pregnancy the condition might. She also had, she said, to consider what effect her age might have on a pregnancy, and in answer to Mattie's protest that she wasn't old, laughed and said that being in her late thirties made her old, as far as the doctors were concerned, to be in her first pregnancy.

After thinking over the information that Mac had just given her, Mattie suggested to Mac that she could perhaps take a year off school to help her. Mac was forced to point out that she had just started her Senior year, and that there was no chance in hell that either she or Harm or even Jen Coates would let her stop her studies. And she added meaningfully, it was time to start thinking about her college applications in if she wanted to beat the November 1st deadline.

Mac tried to avoid any mention of Falls Church, but when asked, she said, yes, one of her officers had been killed there, no, he wasn't exactly a friend, but yes she knew him. When Mattie said that it wasn't fair, Mac unknowingly made the same argument that Sally Cameron was at just about the same time, making to Jen. Mattie, however, with the brutal logic of youth, said that car wrecks, train derailments and slipping on icy side-walks weren't the same thing and Mac shouldn't think that she was dumb enough to fall for that sort of bull-droppings.

Despite this slight bump in the road, Mac was left to think, after Mattie had hauled herself off to bed that it had been one of the most peaceful evenings they'd had together in a long time. And added whimsically to herself that if Mattie continued in this unusual behaviour then she ought perhaps to see a doctor to make sure she wasn't ill!


	12. 10 October 2007

**Wednesday 10 October 2007**

Jen awoke the following morning with a feeling of anticipation which for a moment or two she couldn't understand, until she remembered that Fran was coming home today. In all the excitement of yesterday she had forgotten to ask how Fran intended to get back home. She would have to make an attempt to be here when she did!

In the meantime, there was her run to take care of, breakfast and work!

It felt strange not having to drop Mattie off at school, but it made Jen's drive to work shorter, and it was with high hopes of finding a parking spot near the building and getting a jump on the day's work, that she turned off Harbor Drive onto South 32nd Street heading for the Naval Station Main Gate.

She was annoyed, but resigned as she joined the end of a line of about six cars, all waiting to access the Naval Station. There were more than the usual number of Marine guards in position and they were wearing Utility uniforms and carrying small arms slung across their bodies, ready for use, rather than the normal Service uniforms and holstered side arms.

The Marines were being thorough, the undersides of vehicles were being checked with long handled mirrors and two Marine dog handlers were also standing by. Jennifer had hoped that her familiar car would speed her passage through the gates, but although Jen knew the Marine Corporal, he remained impassive as he checked her identity documents and had her open the trunk, while other Marines checked the underside of her vehicle. At length he returned her documents and waved her through the gates.

Jen was philosophical over the delay, firstly it was a sensible precaution, just in case that yesterday's attack was to have been the first in a wave of such incidents, and more prosaically, because she was early she hadn't had long to wait. The later arrivals would be subject to much longer delays at the gate as the line of cars grew into a full-blown tailback...

Making her way straight to her desk Jen booted her computer and waited for it to come on line. Once it had, she went straight to the e-mails, searching for one in particular. Opening the e-mail, she read with a sense of growing dread:

_Casualty Report, As at 2359 hours Oct 09, 2007_, followed by a list of names under the three heading of Killed, Wounded and Missing.

She was still staring the screen when Mac arrived. For once there was no morning greeting, Mac looked at her and asked, "The casualty report Coates?"

"Yes ma'am, as at twenty-three-fifty-nine hours, ma'am."

"Yes. Print off a copy for me, will you please, and ensure that a full list is posted on the update board. Thank you."

Jen stared after her in astonishment, how could she be so calm about it? she thought.

At that moment, Mac was leaning with her back against the officer door and deep breathing so that she wouldn't break down.

Jen sent the e-mail to the printer, and taking one copy, posted it on the update board, and bringing the other copy back to the office knocked on Mac's doorjamb, and hearing no instruction to wait, entered with the casualty Report. Handing it to Mac she said, "No change from last night, ma'am. Still eleven, seventeen and six."

"Thank you, Coates, but it's now fifteen hours old. Get hold of Sgt Brewer, please, and make sure that we have any updates. And get an update on the Williams' case if you can. I didn't like to see her go like that, but she insisted and it was her right, both as a sailor, and as a wife. But I wish I'd thought to send an escort with her."

"Ma'am, Petty Officer Martin took care of that, sort of. He spoke to one of the flight attendants, and she promised to keep an eye on Petty Officer Williams. His elder daughter's only about six months younger than Williams, so I figured he'd be best able to relate to her. That's why I asked him to take her to the flight."

Mac nodded approvingly, "Good work Coates, remind me to tell Petty Officer Martin the same."

"Yes ma'am. Ma'am, if I might ask, how are you today?"

"Pretty well, Coates, thank you. Still yelled at God this morning, but I don't feel so wretched as I have been, or as tired as I was yesterday, but let's not tempt the fates, shall we?"

"No ma'am. Is coffee still out of the picture ma'am?"

"Uh-huh, I shall be heading through to the galley shortly, you can come with me and learn how to brew tea. Petty Officer, she added as she saw Jen's mouth open as if to protest or argue, "that is not a suggestion!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am."

"Thank you Petty Officer, that will be all."

Mac watched her leave the office and thought, just how and when exactly did we let Coates get to be so damn...insubordinate? There was no other word for it she thought. She sighed, I'll just have to ask Harm.

Jen returned to her desk and dialled the now-familiar MedCen number and asked for Calvin Graham Ward. When the 'phone at the other end picked up, she asked if it was possible to either speak to or have a message passed to Petty Officer Neumann. It was kind of embarrassing, she admitted when asked what the message was, but yesterday amongst all the excitement, when she'd learned that PO Neumann was being discharged today, she had forgotten to leave her a key to get into the apartment, so if possible she need to know what time Petty Officer Neumann was being discharged and what arrangements she had made for being picked up from the hospital. The nurse on the ward promised she pass the message on to PO Neumann and that she would get a message back to Jen.

Replacing the receiver, Jen sighed, toying with the idea of getting a badly wanted coffee or 'phoning Sergeant Brewer; in the end duty won out.

After the initial greetings and a check that there no changes to the overnight report, Jen said, "I was a bit surprised to see your name on the list, or is there another Sergeant Brewer at Falls Church?"

"No, one of me's enough, the General says," but, she added with a chuckle, "there are times when a clone would be handy! Hey, you were his Yeoman once, right?"

"Yes."

"How did you get on with him?"

Jen grinned at the memory of just how nervous she had first been around the General, but she had soon realised that his bark was worse than his bite. There weren't many Generals that a Petty Officer could 'phone and ask him to pick her up because she had car problems.

"Well, at first he terrified me, but once I'd adjusted his attitude, he was fine. He's got a different style than the Admiral, but, yeah, I reckon he's one of the good guys."

She could hear the grin in the voice at DC, "A bit too Gung-Ho, was he?"

"Yes. But, Sergeant..."

"That's Alison, to you...?"

"Jen. Alison, what I am calling for is to ask if there's any update on the twenty-three-fifty-nine casrep. And if there's any news on the two Petty Officers Williams?"

"No, no change. We've got SeaBees clearing away the rubble, and of course we're still hoping but..." Alison left the end of the sentence hanging.

"Yes." Jen responded, fully understanding the silence.

"As far as the two Petty Officers are concerned, your PO arrived on schedule, but in a helluva state; hardly surprising I guess, she's just a baby. She saw him last night, and the Red Cross took her to guest housing. She's back at Bethesda today. As for him, the surgeons had to take his arm above the above the elbow. I just got off the 'phone with his nurse; he's pretty weak but they're hopeful he'll make it."

"What about you, like I said, I was surprised to see your name on the list, and you're still at duty?"

"Oh, nothing to worry, about, I got banged up a bit, and had to have a couple of sutures. But there were people needed organising, and that's what I do best."

Jen had a suspicion that the other woman was glossing over her injuries, but didn't feel that well acquainted as to be able press the issue; the call ended with assurances of updates to come and thanks for updates received, and Jen rose to report to Mac what she had just learned.

Jen returned to her desk and turned her attention to the now-overflowing in-box on her desk. Looking at the contents balefully, she sat and started to sort them in order of priority. Before she had made much progress, she was interrupted by Mac, who hurrying past with a strained look on her pale face just managed to speak, "Women's room!" she gritted out as she quick-stepped across the bull-pen, which was still not up to complement.

Jen rose, undecided whether she was supposed to follow or not; Mac looked back over her shoulder, and glared at her, nearly running down Lieutenant Walker who just managed to side-step her hurtling Commanding Officer. Jen reading a summons into Mac's looking back at her, followed, having to side-step in her turn around the puzzled Lieutenant.

Mac paused for a fleeting moment at the door, and groaned through clenched teeth, "Post it!" and ducked through the door. Firmly putting aside all mental images of rabbits, Jen took up her post, ready to repel any and all who might seek entrance.

It seemed an age when a still white-faced Mac emerged from the Women's Room, but instead of turning back towards the bull-pen, she said to Jen, "Walk with me", and turning in the opposite direction, she headed towards the law library. Once inside, she took a couple of books at random, and put them on one of the tables that stood between the stacks. Pulling out a chair, she sat, indicating that Jen should do the same. In response to Jen's eloquently questioning eyebrow, she grinned weakly. "Subterfuge; I don't know how I look, but I feel like death, and if I look half as bad as I feel, the whole damn' office would be speculating, and by this evening the whole damn' navy yard would be joining in the scuttlebutt!"

She took a deep breath and smiled, rather weakly, Jen thought, but replied, "I guess a few minutes to catch your breath can't hurt, ma'am."

"Thank you, Coates. You must be getting tired of baby-sitting me!"

"Ma'am, you don't really expect me to answer that, do you?" Jen had adopted her wide-eyed-and-innocent face.

Despite herself, Mac couldn't stop a chuckle. "Coates, one of these days, you will go too far!"

"Yes, ma'am."

Mac looked across at Jen, there was no doubt, but that the Petty Officer seemed... not strained, nor stressed, she didn't look tired, but there was something... "Oh, and Coates, Mattie did tell me two pieces of good news."

"Ma'am?"

"Yes, she tells me that she climbed a rope, and that Petty Officer Neumann is being released from hospital today."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm waiting to hear from MedCen what arrangements have been made or need to be made to get her home. She's been put on medical leave for three weeks. We should have confirmation of that, tomorrow, I guess."

"Right. Well, if you need to go get her, and it can wait until this afternoon, would it be too difficult to pick up Mattie from school too?"

"No, I'd be happy to do that, but it might be better if pick Mattie up first, and bring her home, and then, if need be, pick up Petty Officer Neumann. But I'll pick Mattie up for you anyway, ma'am."

"Thank you Coates. Now, how do I look?"

"You'll stand inspection ma'am."

"Right, OK, Petty Officer, on my six!" Mac said as she got to her feet.

"Uh, ma'am, can we take a moment, please?"

Mac sat down again, "I thought something was bothering you, what is it Petty Officer?"

"Well ma'am, that doctor I told you about, the one that came to help Petty Officer Neumann?" Mac nodded, "and we told you that they had me and Mattie over for dinner on Sunday? Well ma'am I was visiting with them last night, and he thinks that there might be something that the other doctors missed, and he thinks that he can maybe help Mattie."

Mac replied, "Well, if he can, that would be a fine thing. But, there's a lot to think about here Coates. I'll need to get full details, and then the three of us, Harm, Mattie, me, will need to sit down together, and talk it through. I hope Harm will be home this weekend," she gestured towards her mid-section, "if Friday's results are positive, then I want to tell him face-to-face. "If not, she continued with a grave expression, "then I shall need his shoulder to cry on."

"Yes, Ma'am." Jen refrained from asking the question that was on the tip of her tongue. Despite everything that had passed between them and the years they had known each other, she did not feel capable of asking the Colonel whether she would be happy with her pregnancy if the tests should prove positive.

"Come on then Coates. Mattie tells me you've learned how to boil water without burning it, so let's go brew some tea. Tell me, what is it with Mattie thinking you can't cook, as I recall it you used to be pretty useful around the kitchen?"

"Well, ma'am it was when we had those apartments near Union Station, Harm was getting me to expand my repertoire, and while I was learning how to cook his vegetarian meals, there were a couple of times it didn't go quite to plan, so we ended up at Beltway Burgers. Don't tell Mattie ma'am, or Harm, but there was more than once that the accident was more accidentally-on-purpose, just so we could get some real protein in our bellies; ma'am, have you ever _tried _that tofurkey crap?"

The lesson in tea-brewing concluded Mac poured a cup and headed back to her office. Jen, who occasionally drank green tea made from a tea-bag, poured a half cup for herself, and sipped it cautiously. The drink was hot, black and had a faintly acid bite to it, not, she thought, something she would rave about, but if it kept Mac happy then she would try to apply the instructions she had just been given.

Back at her desk there was another message waiting from Alison Brewer. Pressing the 'message' button, she heard the Sergeant's voice telling her that a further female body had been pulled from the rubble at Falls Church, and identification had been made on the basis of the dog-tags found on the body, and then the name; a female Marine Corps Private.

Jen wrote the name out in her neat hand-writing and getting to her feet, knocked for entry into Mac's office. As she entered Mac looked from the file she had been reading, and seeing Jen's face, closed the file, shut her eyes for a second, sighed and held out her hand. Jen gave her the message slip, and receiving Mac's silent nod of acceptance, turned equally silently and left the office, gently closing the door behind her.

She was met by the sight of an athletic looking man, in his late thirties, or maybe early forties she guessed. He was casually dressed in a lightweight jacket and dark pants, but as he turned towards her, Jen could see a holstered pistol on his belt. He held out a leather wallet towards her, showing a badge and a Federal ID, and said, "Special Agent Brett Johnson, NCIS. I'd like to see the Colonel."

"Yes, sir. If you'll take a seat for minute, I'll get you in just as soon as I can."

"Thank you." But he made no move towards either of the two chairs ranged against the far wall, but moved back and blocking her view of the bull-pen stood in the doorway observing the activity before him.

Jen pressed the inter-phone and when Mac answered, she said, "Ma'am, there's an NCIS Agent Johnson to see you."

Mac's voice seemed curiously muffled as she answered, "Thank you, Petty Officer, give me a minute, and then you can send him on in."

Jen busied herself at her desk for a short time and then knocking on Mac's door and waiting for the silence, she opened i and announced, "Agent Johnson, NCIS, ma'am."

Mac stood to greet her visitor, "Good morning Agent Johnson, please, sit down. What can JAG do for NCIS today."

"Good morning, Colonel," he said taking the indicated seat. "There's nothing official about this call. I had intended just to come and introduce myself. I've just been re-assigned from DC to take over the San Diego Office, and as our paths are bound to cross, I thought it would be useful as well as mannerly to say hello." he explained, "but, yesterday's events in Falls Church, also suggest that I come and acknowledge your losses. I know JAG is a small organisation, and the loss of each member must be deeply felt. Colonel I am truly sorry." His face grew sombre, "I knew Captain Wyatt, and was honoured that he considered me a friend."

Mac acknowledged his comments with a nod and a quiet, "Thank you."

"Colonel," he continued, "I know this is a bad time, so I won't press you. But I think it could be beneficial if we could sit down at some point and hammer out the details of our jurisdictions to our own satisfaction. I know what it says in the regs, but I have no patience with the stupid turf wars which have interfered with past investigations. I'll be open with you, my background is army CID, I have no axe to grind with either navy blue or marine green; I'm here to do a job, and I'd like to do that job in an atmosphere of co-operation with the other agencies I have to work with." He rose to his feet and said, "Well that about sums up what I came to say, Colonel, so if you can have your Petty Officer call my office when you're ready, then maybe we can set up a meeting and set the ground rules, so no-one is raining on anybody's else's parade. Thank you for your time Colonel."

Mac stared as the door closed behind him. What had just happened here? she asked herself. She had allowed him into her office, and he had sat there almost dictating terms, and she had just sat there and let him!

Shaking her head, she could only explain it away by her preoccupation with events at Falls Church, and with her sorrow at so many losses. Johnson had been right about one thing, JAG was a small, close knit community. Most of the JAGs knew or knew of each other and their Legalmen, and even many of the non-legally trained staff had been re-assigned from one JAG office to another not out of favouritism, but because they knew their jobs in a specialised niche. Those that fitted in with JAG tended to stay, those that didn't, like Lieutenant Simms, went on their way. Speaking of which, she sighed, and pressed the call button on the interphone.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Coates, is there anywhere in the middle of that mess on your desk an envelope, probably hand-written and addressed to me?"

I haven't seen one ma'am. But I'll check and let you know straight away."

Mac busied herself reviewing the Lomax case file. Base security had been called to a domestic argument in one of the enlisted on-base housing areas. It seemed to be an open and shut case and the convening authority wanted an immediate court martial. Mac wasn't so sure; she sat tapping her pencil against the folder. Something was wrong here. Her lawyer's instincts were screaming that it was all too neat.

She waited until Coates rapped on her doorjamb and entered her office. "I'm sorry ma'am, there's nothing on my desk that matches what you asked me to look for. Maybe if I knew what it was...?"

"No... no, that's fine thank you. Do you know if Commander Coleman is on deck?"

"No ma'am, she's still in court."

"Right... pass a message to her for me please. I would like to see her the instant she gets out of there."

"Yes ma'am."

"Thank you, Coates, dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am!"

Jennifer continued to work at the accumulation of files and folders on her desk while trying to keep watch for Commander Coleman and while anticipating the 'phone call from the Medical Centre that would inform her of Fran's plans for returning home. Looking at her watch, she was amazed to see how much time had already passed this morning and flirted with the idea of taking a lunch break, but decided that if she had to secure early, then she would just run down to the cafeteria and bring a sandwich back with her. She couldn't do that she reflected until she'd gotten hold of Commander Coleman, with the way her luck had been running recently, the second she turned her back, the Commander would be gone and the Colonel would be on her six!

Jen's decision to wait for the court to adjourn was a wise one; she was able to intercept Commander Coleman almost at the elevator doors. "Beg pardon, ma'am. The Colonel would like to see you in her office ASAP!"

Commander Coleman looked surprised, but responded, "Thank you, Petty Officer. I'll be there directly."

She was as good as her word, and was at Mac's door within the minute. Rapping on the doorjamb she was invited in by Mac, who again closed the Lomax file. "Come on in Commander, have a seat."

Faith Coleman sat in the attitude that Mac was beginning to think habitual. Bolt upright, almost on the edge of the chair with feet and knees together, lower legs forming an almost perfect right angle with her thighs, and her hands folded together and resting in her lap.

"How is your case going Commander?" asked Mac. It was no good she thought, there is just something about her that makes me uneasy.

"It's going well, ma'am. We have finally found a witness who saw and heard more than nothing. I expect to finish my closing argument by this time tomorrow."

"Good! Replied Mac emphatically. "Take a look, a good look at this one please. Master Sergeant Lomax, murder 2. It looks like a slam-dunk, the convening authority is pushing for a court martial, but I'm not so sure; it's too perfect."

"I understand, ma'am"

"Good, thank you. There is just one more thing. Has Lieutenant Simms got back to you with an answer to the letter I sent her?"

"No, ma'am, not a word. Her apartment isn't all that far from mine. I could swing by there on my way home and give her a nudge?"

"Yes, thank you, Commander. I'll be obliged to you."

"It will be my pleasure, Colonel".

Mac watched with fascinated irritation as the Commander got to her feet, smoothed her skirt and deliberately twitched each sleeve in turn as if she could ensure no creases marked the cloth. Commander Coleman becoming aware of Mac's gaze, stopped in her preparations to depart and asked, "Was there something else, Colonel?"

"No, no, thank you Commander, that was all."

As the Commander left the office Jen decided that now was as good a time as any to grab her sandwich, and had just picked up her cover and purse when the 'phone rang. At last it was the Medical Centre. Petty Officer Neumann was ready to be discharged, and please, please could Petty Officer Coates come and get her.

Jen wasn't sure if the pleading originated with Fran or whether the ward staff were now simply desperate to get rid of her. Smiling at that thought, Jen shut down her computer and cleared her desk, ready to secure for the day before advising Mac that she was on the point of departure. Knocking and entering after her usual pause, she found Mac with her elbows on the desk and rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands, "Are you alright ma'am?" she asked .

Mac raised her head and with a thin smile said, "Yes, I'm fine thanks Coates, I've just realised that I'm tired out. Is Commander Coleman still on deck?"

"No ma'am, she's gone for lunch."

"Lieutenant Walker?"

"I believe she's in her office, ma'am, shall I pass the word?"

"No, that's alright, I've got to pass her office on the way to the elevator."

"You're going out Colonel?"

"No Coates I'm going home, before I fall asleep at my desk!" She grimaced, "After all this puking and peeing, worrying, weeping and wailing and now falling asleep during the middle of the day, this had better not be a phantom pregnancy. If it is a false alarm, I'm likely to kill someone!" She paused, "I know your incurable honesty Coates, so if I do get arrested, try and forget I just said that!"

"Yes, ma'am, I'll try. Ma'am, I was just about to tell you that I'm getting ready to leave for the MedCen, to collect Petty Officer Neumann. All I have to do now is get hold of Yates to man my desk and I'm through. With your permission, of course ma'am?"

"If you're sure you've got your bases covered, then fine, Coates. It's a bit early to pick up Mattie, though..."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll go to the MedCen first, then to the school then to Pacific Avenue and then home."

"OK, Coates, make it happen!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am!"

Jen had no trouble getting hold of Yates and presenting him with a list of 'If... then...' instructions she had typed out. All he really needed to do was to take messages, and if there was something he wasn't sure of, he could, after giving her an hour's head start call her. If something looked like an emergency he could ask PO Martin for advice, but he was not to go blabbing his mouth off about anything he might hear. Especially if it concerned Falls Church or any of the casualties. She could not, she said, sufficiently emphasise the seriousness of that order. If he disobeyed it, he would almost definitely be facing an Article 32 and would probably lose his rating. It _was_ that big a deal. On the other hand if anything did come through from Sergeant Brewer or General Cresswell about Falls Church, then he was to call her, and no-one else until he had spoken with her. If she didn't answer it was because she was either behind the wheel of her car, or because she was at the MedCen. If she didn't answer he was to keep calling until she did. Was everything understood? It was? Good.

He was so desperately eager to please that it was only with the greatest difficulty than Jen managed to stop herself from patting him on the head and saying "Good boy". After forming that mental image Jen almost ran from the office torn between castigating herself for even thinking about being so cruel and a reprehensible desire to giggle. She was she thought as she got behind the wheel spending way too much time around Mattie!

Yates sat at Jen's desk his eyes glued to the 'phone and terrified at the thought he might have to speak to a General.

On arrival at the MedCen, Jen found Fran waiting for her at the nurses station, she was dressed in the jeans and sweater Tim had bought for her while she was still confined to bed, and the bedroom mules she'd been wearing when she was admitted. She also had a scowl on her face.

"Hello, little miss sunshine," greeted Jan.

"Will you stop that Coates," growled Fran. "I'm trying to be pissed at you, and I can't be when you're making me laugh!"

Inwardly relieved that there was nothing serious, Jen still couldn't resist teasing her friend, "You're pissed at me? L'il ol' me? Why, I declare Miss Neumann, I never heard anything so shocking in all my days!"

Jen's attempt at impersonating Scarlett O'Hara was so bad that not only did Fran, unable to help herself, burst out giggling, but so did the Ensign and the Lieutenant jg on the nurses' station.

"I don't know whether to be glad or sad that Petty Officer Neumann is leaving us." the Ensign remarked. "Glad because that will end the disruption caused by her visitors; or sad because we'll miss the giggles!"

"Come on, Fran," said Jen, picking up Fran's holdall, "We know when we're not wanted. You can tell me on the way down why you're supposed to be pissed with me!"

"Not so fast Petty Officer, not like that." The Lieutenant raised a hand to halt their progress. She spoke to Jen, "Petty Officer Neumann needs a wheelchair," and then turned back to Fran, "Don't try arguing again Petty Officer, we've been through this about four hundred and forty times already. Hospital policy says you must have a wheelchair until you're off the premises; so a wheelchair you will have!"

"Manners, Fran, what do you say? You say 'thank you ma'am," coaxed Jen in an affectedly sweet voice.

Despite herself, Fran couldn't help giggling again. "Thank you ma'am" she repeated obediently, and then delivered further mock scowl at Jen, "You an' me lady are going to have a way serious talk about this later," she promised Jen, but she turned to the two nurses and said, "But my friend is right. I do need to say thank you, and not just to the two of you. Please say thank you for me to all the nurses?"

The two nurses promised they would pass on her message, and with something of the air of a conjurer the young Ensign produced from behind the nurses' station the prescribed wheelchair. Fran seated herself with a grimace of dislike, but allowed Jen to propel her towards the elevator. As Jen pressed the call button, she remarked, "It's sad you know."

"What's sad?" questioned Fran giving Jen a suspicious look from under her eyebrows.

"Well to think that we won't be coming here again any time soon," Jen replied with a theatrical sigh, "we've had so many good time in this elevator, it'll be like saying good bye to an old friend."

"What are you talking about you... you... whackjob!" protested a laughing Fran.

"Oh, you'll have to ask Mattie to explain," Jen smiled, "she knows more about the effect that elevator has than anyone else!"

The second they were outside, Fran almost leapt out the chair, and pushed it towards a Corpsman who was just about to enter the hospital, and smiling sweetly asked him, "Do you know where I can park this?"

"Fran!" gasped a scandalised Jen, "What are you thinking!"

"Oh, it's OK, Petty Officer," the Corpsman smiled, "we get told just where to put these things every day! Here hand it over, I'll get rid of it for you."

"Thank you," Fran said, and turning towards Jen, added as they crossed the parking lot, "I was only in that thing for about ten minutes, and I hated it, what must it have been like for Mattie, stuck in it for all those months!"

"You can ask her yourself, Fran, we're on our way to pick her up from school."

"I thought she was back at Lemon Grove?" asked Fran.

"She is, but Mac had to leave the office early, so she asked me if I'd pick Mattie for her. You don't mind do you?"

"No, of course not, I was just surprised, is all."

Fran sat quietly as the car headed out on Bob Wilson Avenue until they were clear of the hospital grounds, when she laid back against the head rest and sighed, "Oh, man, you don't know just how damn' good it feels to be out of that place!"

Jen smiled, "You make it sound like you were doing hard time!"

Fran grinned in return, "You have no idea!"

A friendly silence followed that lasted until the pair arrived at Mattie's school. On spotting Fran in the car Mattie stumped through the gates as fast as she could, and throwing open the rear door, practically hurled herself onto the seat so that she could lean forward and hug Fran.

"Whoa! Easy there," cried Fran, "what are you trying to do, throttle me, or just break my neck!" But the smile in her voice said that her protest was fake.

"Where are we going?" cried an excited Mattie.

"We," Jen responded with massive dignity, "are going home, and so young lady are you!"

"Oh Jen! We just got Fran back!" Mattie protested.

"Yep, We did! She's out of hospital, but she still needs her rest."

"Er... don't I get a say in this?" Fran wanted to know

"Nope, and anyway Mattie, Mac's waiting for you at home."

Jen's reminder instantly stilled all Mattie's protests, "Jen," she asked, "is she alright?" the sudden anxiety in her voice quite plain to hear.

"Mattie she's fine, she was just a little tired and couldn't concentrate, so she's taken the afternoon off." Jen answered.

Fran looked across at Jen and said in severe tones, "There's something you're not telling me isn't there? The Colonel, our workaholic Colonel taking time out, because she's tired? Oh, come on Jen, do you think I was born yesterday?"

Jen silently cursed her own big mouth for letting slip something she had meant to broach later, if at all. "Well, yes Fran, there are a couple of things, but I wanted to wait until we could sit down at home. Would you mind, if we kept to that plan?"

Fran shot another glance across at her friend. Despite her love of jokes and her apparent immersion in life's trivia, Fran Neumann was no fool. Although Jen had tried to sound matter of fact, Fran thought Jen was hiding something from her. Reasoning that whatever it was, Jen didn't want to discuss it in front of Mattie - it must be serious if that's the case, she thought - she nodded and said "Well, if that's the way you want it... OK I guess."

She was rewarded by Jen's smile, "Thanks, Fran." Jen then twisted around to look at Mattie and asked her, "All buckled in? Good, Vamanos!"

The fifteen minute drive to Lemon Grove was spent in silence. Jen concentrated on her driving, Mattie was slightly concerned about Mac, although she knew that if there had been anything seriously wrong, Jen would have pulled her out of class, and Fran sure that there were undercurrents of which she was not aware, speculated as to what was going or had been going on.

On arrival at Pacific Avenue, Jen had just opened the rear door to help Mattie out, an even more tortuous manoeuvre than getting or out through the front door, when her cell 'phone in her purse began to ring. "Fran," she called, answer that will you? Thanks! - OK Mattie, then give me a hug and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Aren't you coming in Jen?"

"Not today sweetie, I wasn't joking when I said abut Fran not being fully recovered, I do need to get her home ASAP. But I will see you tomorrow

"Jen it's Yates, he says it's urgent!"

"Hello, Yates, this is PO Coates. Where's the fire? They did? That's fantastic! Did they give you a name? Hold on. Fran, note pad and pen, Purse. Quick. Thanks. Hi Yates, me again, what was the name?...Lieutenant Catherine Morrison, Marine Corps. Brilliant. Did they say how she was? Uh-huh, Bethesda; right. OK, now what I need you to do is boot up my computer. Once it's on line, log in as Zeta, Zee Ee Tee Ay, and go to 'My Documents', click on the folder 'FC01' that's Foxtrot Charlie Zero One. It's password protected, 'Zorro', that's Zee Oh Ar, Ar Oh' - yes, as in 'The Mask of'. Got that? Right then move her name from MIA to WIA. Print a copy, and post it on the update board. Is Commander Coleman back on Deck? OK, if she's still in Court then pass that message to Lieutenant Walker, exactly as you told me. Understood? Fine. Thank you Yates. Wow, this is a day for good news! Fran, I'll explain when I get back, I've got to tell the Colonel something!"

Her enthusiastic knocking on the door brought Mattie stumping down the hallway, "Jen, is anything wrong?"

"No, Mattie. no - just the opposite. Is the Colonel awake?"

"She is now," mumbled a bleary-eyed Mac, emerging from the lounge, "What's wrong, Coates?"

"Nothing's wrong Colonel. Sergeant Brewer 'phoned the office about ten minutes ago, and Yates has just passed me the word. Ma'am, they've dug a survivor out of the rubble at Falls Church; a Lieutenant Morrison, a Marine. She's hurt but she's alive, they've taken her to Bethesda!"

Mac smiled, somehow hugely cheered by the news, "This is good news Coates, thank you. Did they say how badly she was hurt?"

Jen sobered, "No, ma'am, but she can't be too bad to have survived this long, surely?"

"Yes, you're probably right, Coates, thank you again."

"My pleasure ma'am, and ma'am, I really mean that this time!"

Returning to the car, she slid into the driver's seat and said, "Fran, there's just so much news. Let's get home and I'll tell you all!"

Fran opened the door to the apartment to allow a grocery loaded Jen to enter. The stop at the Apple Tree Supermarket on, Santa Monica Avenue, instead of being a top up on the contents of the fridge, had turned into a full-scale replenishment. So while Fran dumped her holdall on her bed and critically inspected her room for damage, Jen unpacked the supplies and started brewing a pot of coffee. Minor chores completed the two friends curled up at opposite ends of the couch and sipped their drinks. Fran, at least was deeply appreciative, "Jen," she murmured in almost ecstasy, you have just no idea of just how good this is after hospital coffee!"

Jen grinned at her in acknowledgement of the compliment. "I'm glad you like it," she said, "I hope you enjoy dinner as well."

Something in her voice triggered Fran's suspicions, "Go on, you're up to something. Give. What is it? What have you done?"

"Up to something? Fran! What a shocking thing to say, when all I've done is prepare the dinner for this evening - Meatloaf and potatoes followed by lime jello!"

Fran stared in disbelieving silence. "Jennifer Coates, do not even joke about lime jello!" she finally managed.

"OK, I was joking," admitted Jen, but only about the lime jello, I really have made meatloaf - with egg, but there's fresh fruit salad and ice-cream to follow!"

Fran looked at her friend, and putting her mug down on the coffee table said, "Alright, Coates, you've been putting this off for long enough. Stop it with the international woman of mystery crap and give!" she paused and then asked in a more serious tone, "What is it Jen, Falls Church?"

"Yes, but how..."

"I had a TV in my room Jen, I didn't spend all day watching the 'Best of Friends'. They have news programmes too."

"How much did you see?"

"That there was an explosion at a Navy Facility in Falls Church, and that there had been casualties." She stopped speaking and looked at Jen's face, "Is it very bad, Jen?"

Jen nodded, "It was an attack Fran, a missile we think, twelve dead, and at the last count seventeen wounded and six still missing, no make that eighteen and five. That 'phone call at Mac's was to say they'd just dug a survivor out of the rubble. One of the KIA was Commander Sturgess, he was on TAD. Commander Blaine was there too, but she wasn't hurt."

Fran was horrified, "Jen, why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Jen shrugged, "You'd just got engaged, you were so happy and bursting with it. How could I tell you?"

Fran just smiled and shook her head at her friend.

"It's not all bad news though." Jen continued with an almost visible shake as she tried to throw off the sadness that had washed over her. "You know you were asking about Mac? Well, she told Mattie and me that she thinks she's pregnant. Not that it was a surprise to me, I'd seen how she's not been too well with it; it's really taking it out of her, but it's early days yet, so we're hoping it'll get better for her. It's not confirmed yet; it seems she's got problems, so she hasn't said anything until she's certain. She only told us because she was so sick last weekend. She's due to get the blood work results tomorrow, and then she says she'll have to go public. When she's been as sick as she has, and may carry on being sick, people are going to notice, and you know what scuttlebutt is like. Now listen, like I said, this is supposed to be a secret, and the only reason I'm telling you is because I know you won't get on the 'phone and start blabbing. If Mac confirms the news tomorrow I'll let you know and then you can spend all day, every day on the 'phone. So those are my two pieces of news. What have you been up to?"

The absurdity of Jen's question broke the tension that had arisen while Jen had spoken of Falls Church, and that the news of Mac's pregnancy had only partially dissipated. Amity and peaceful relations were restored through dinner, despite the meatloaf, and the necessary clearing up, threatened only by a mild disagreement over which DVD to watch, the one wanting to see 'Raising Arizona', the other's choice falling on 'The Runaway Bride'.

Mac closed the door on Jen's retreating figure and returned to the lounge, where Mattie had picked up one of her schoolbooks and was idly flicking through its pages. She looked up as Mac entered the room and said, "You look cheerful."

"Yes, that was Coates. She's just had a call from DC relayed to her. They've found another survivor at Falls Church, a Marine Lieutenant, a woman."

"That's great Mac, do you know her?"

"No, no I don't. I don't even know the name, so she's probably not a JAG. I should call." She turned to go to her home office, the name she had jokingly given to a rather small space between the staircase and the kitchen wall, and next door to the downstairs bathroom. The latter circumstance, she admitted to herself, not being too inconvenient at the moment, as she placed her hand over her stomach. Sliding into the narrow gap, all that could be managed between chair and desk, she realised that in the not too distant future she literally wouldn't be able to squeeze herself into that space. This was her first pregnancy and she had no idea how big she was going to grow. Harriett had been enormous both when she was expecting little AJ, and again with James. Yet, she hadn't seemed quite so big when she'd had the twins; other women she had seen had seemed to remain quite slim throughout their pregnancies. It was something she'd have to ask the OB/Gyn, if she thought, I _am _pregnant. She closed her eyes for a moment in a silent wish, please let me be pregnant.

The hell with calling Brewer or the general, she thought, I've got a much more important call to make. Her hand reached for the 'phone and she pressed speed dial #1, as she had hoped, the call was answered quickly. "Hello, Harm, it's me sweetheart. I just called to say I love you, and I miss you... Yes, I know you do, but at this moment not as much as I'm missing you... You bet your navy blue butt I can prove it, or I could if you were right here with me now. So, listen, hon, I need... no I _really_ need to know that you're coming home tomorrow. Yes, it is that important. Harm, I'm deadly serious, if you let me down tomorrow, I don't know that I will ever be able to forgive you... Yes, I do mean that, we've got a couple of huge issues that we need to talk through... no I can't talk about them now, over the 'phone... that's why I need you back here tomorrow, they can't be put off for another week. Anyway, you should find the rewards worth the effort...

Mattie peering in to the office saw Mac, hunched over the desk with a foolish smile on her face and correctly assumed that Mac and Harm were talking, probably real 'grown-up' stuff she smiled to herself, and realised that Mac was likely to be on the phone for quite some time. That's just fine and dandy, but I'm a growing girl, I need my dinner, she told herself, and went to the kitchen. Checking the fridge, she reminded herself that Mac's stomach was still being real picky, so she would want something that wouldn't upset her too much. With those thoughts in mind, she selected a handful of mushrooms, an onion and a large potato, which, once she added beaten eggs would make a huge Spanish omelette for the two of them to share.

Mac was still talking to Harm when the food was cooked so placing a knife and fork on Mac's plate she carried it into the office. Mac looked up in surprise and Mattie saw that her face was slightly flushed and that her eyes were shining. Oh, my, God! Mattie thought, they're talking about IT! and feeling slightly uncomfortable she retreated to the kitchen for her own dinner. After she had eaten she made a surreptitious check on Mac; she was still on the phone, still smiling foolishly. Mattie washed up the kitchen tools she had used and her plate and cutlery, but told herself there was no way she was going back into the home office until Mac had finished flirting with her own husband! That decision made, Mattie grabbed her school bag and headed for her bedroom to tackle her overdue homework before Mac recovered and started asking too many pointed questions about her lack of scholarly activity.

Jen sighed and thumbed the button on the remote that tuned the TV off. The discussion over which movie to watch had been settled by a compromise; they had watched 'Pretty Woman'. Jen had noticed that three quarters of the way through the movie that Fran's head was drooping and that she kept jerking back to stare at the screen with what Jen was pretty sure were eyes no longer capable of focus. Now, she saw that Fran was practically asleep and debated for a moment the idea of waking her and ushering her through to her room, but in the end decided on taking a blanket from the linen closet, and gently lifting her friend's feet on to the couch, drew the blanket over her, and left her to her dreams. Jen's movements remained quiet and almost stealthy as she showered and prepared for bed. With a grimace of distaste she remembered that the dinner plate and dishes still needed washing up, but decided in the interests of quiet that they could for once be left until the morning.


	13. 12 October 2007

**Friday 12 October 2007**

Waking at her normal time, Jen headed for the bathroom, half-expecting to see Fran still asleep on the couch, but the rumpled blanket seemed to say that she had woken up during the night and had stumbled off to her own bed. Jen thought it might be quite a while before Fran surfaced. After all she thought, as she headed out of the door, as Mattie had once remarked, Fran was not really a morning person!

It was a flushed and slightly glowing Jen that returned to Cape May Avenue some thirty-five minutes later, and as she stood waiting to get her breath back, she was greeted from behind by Sally Cameron, who offered her a tired smile and yawned hugely. "Night shift," she said laconically by way of explanation, then she smiled "At least I won't have to work nights when this bad boy starts making his presence known." She considered for a moment, "Y'know, that's not such a bad trade off for months of being fat and bloated." But her smile showed that her real feelings about the months ahead were totally different to those she spoke of in public. Jen looked at Sally, who was, dammit!, glowing. She looked, happy healthy and confident, and thought Jen sadly, in total contrast to Mac, who even during her better times looked grey, tired and pinch-faced.

Sally looked curiously at Jen whose heightened colour was beginning to fade and who was breathing had almost returned to normal. "That's a pretty quick recovery time Jen," she commented, "You run a lot? I know we saw you here the other day, but I didn't know you were such a regular marathoneer!"

Jen grinned as they climbed the steps to the building, "I'll let you into my secret, Sally. I hate running! I have to force myself to do it every day, because if I skip it once, then that'll become the habit, instead of the running. Besides it helps keep this in trim," she said patting her flat stomach, and then in confusion as she realised what she'd said, added, "Oh! Sally, that was so dumb of me, I'm sorry I didn't mean..."

Sally broke into laughter, "Oh Jen, your face! Don't worry about it. I'm not offended; I'm the young lady from Louth. Look, I've got to get some sleep, hitting the rack's what you say isn't it? But before I get in, I'm going to have to turf Tony out first!"

"Oh, Sally, just before you go? I brought Fran back home yesterday, and if it's not too much trouble..."

"Of course not Jen. I'll probably sleep through to lunch time, but I'll slip upstairs to see her at some stage." Sally reassured her as the elevator came to a halt at the second floor. Jen smiled her thanks as the doors hissed shut and the elevator resumed its upwards glide.

As Jen had thought might be the case, Fran was still fast asleep; Jen peeped around the edge of her door to see that at least Fran had managed to shed jeans and sweater and crawl under the covers, but Jen feeling slightly guilty at the thought was glad that she wouldn't around when the doubtless frowsty and grumpy Fran finally surfaced. Hurrying through her shower, dressing and breakfasting, Jen scrawled a hasty note to Fran explaining that Sally would call in later, and with a guilty look at her watch flew out of the apartment and down to her waiting car.

Driving down Nimitz Boulevard heading for Harbor Drive Jen finally identified the reason for the feeling of anticipation that had been growing in her since returning from her run. Mac's test results were due today! Halting for the lights at the intersection with Rosecrans Street, she wondered why she was getting so invested in Mac's pregnancy; it wasn't as if they were actually related. Her connection with Mac was Officer and Enlisted, OK, it was a bit unusual because they had served together for so long; OK, it was a bit of a stretch, but they had a shared connection through Mattie even if Mac wasn't really related to her...

She was blasted out of her reflections by the angry blaring of the car horn from the vehicle behind her as the lights changed to green, so waving an apologetic hand, she released the emergency brake and continued on her way to work.

Some twenty minutes later as she turned off Harbor Drive, she bit her lip in annoyance. She had forgotten about the increased threat level and was about twenty vehicles back from the gate check point. It seemed to take forever to crawl forward until she could go through the same routine as she had yesterday, but at least she's had the time to get her ID out of her purse. It was a different Marine Corporal who checked her car and ID this morning, or so the name tag on his utilities said, although she would have been hard put to tell the two of them apart, and while she was waiting for clearance she whimsically speculated whether the Marines chose a certain physical type to be Corporals, or whether those promoted to that rank evolved into clones of some idealised, poster boy Corporal.

Moving on through the gates and around to the JAG designated parking lot, she was pleasantly surprised to see that there were still plenty of spaces, and an anxious glance showed her that Mac's reserved space was still empty.

Trotting up the steps to the door, she noticed that here too the Marine Security Detail was in utilities and carrying their small arms ready for instant use. She smiled a greeting at the young marine on the door, and was surprised when as she stepped into the entry hall to be stopped and asked for ID. The marine who had stopped her was a Lance Corporal whom she knew by sight. He grinned apologetically and said, "Sorry, Petty Officer, orders." Jen knew there was no point arguing or questioning the marine, he had been given his orders and he would not let her pass until she had shown him her ID Card. Security was all very well and necessary, she thought, but there was such a thing as over-egging the pudding. Jen was far from conceited, but she was aware that for some reason she attracted admiring looks from men, and was certain that unless they were very new, then she was known by sight to every one of them on the Security Detail.

Reaching the office she found she had been right in her estimation, there were barely a quarter of the bodies present that should have been here. Snatching a hasty cup of over-brewed coffee from the galley, she returned to her desk and quickly leafed through the messages left yesterday by Seaman Yates. There was the original of the message he had relayed to her... nothing of especial interest... except one from Lieutenant Simms. She winced in sympathy for Yates, it couldn't have been easy for him to have his own pet bugbear suddenly in his ears when he thought she was finally gone, and then as she read the message she even felt sorry for Lieutenant Simms, that couldn't, from its phrasing, have been an easy message to give to someone whom she had bullied and ridiculed.

Apart from the sheaf of messages though, her in-box was as empty as she had left it yesterday. Pursing her lips in mild annoyance, she stuck her head out of the door and said, "Has anyone seen the morning mail pouch?"

A chorus of rather unhelpful negatives was the response, until someone suggested that perhaps the extra security, with vehicles kept waiting in line for gate clearance, might just have FUBAR'd the normal mail delivery schedules. Jen nodded in agreement, chagrined that she hadn't thought of that for herself. It didn't really matter, however, that the hard copy mail was adrift, she was sure as she booted her computer that there would be plenty of electronic mail to sort through, print or discard as necessary.

Jen was in the middle of this task when Mac arrived. From the crease between her eyebrows, she did not seem to be in a very good mood, and a glance at Jen's watch was enough to tell her that the Colonel did not relish being over an hour late at her desk. Jen gave Mac a couple of minutes to settle behind her desk, and then brought in her messages from the previous afternoon. As Mac flicked moodily through them, Jen asked, "Ma'am, would a cup of tea be of any help?"

"H'mm, do you think you can handle that, Coates?"

"Yes, ma'am, I received excellent instruction on the resources and methods to be used, ma'am," Jen replied with a perfectly straight face, but with a hint of laughter in her eyes.

"Petty Officer, are you trying to snow me?"

"No ma'am, wouldn't think of it ma'am. I'm just trying to do my job ma'am!"

Mac could hardly believe her ears, she stood and glared at her Yeoman, "Petty Officer, are... are you... laughing at me?"

"No ma'am, but I am ma'am, trying to get you to laugh with me."

Mac sat down again taken aback by Jen's open confession. She gazed in wonder at the younger woman and said, "Coates you are..."

"Impossible, Ma'am?" It was said with such a look of innocence on Jen's face that Mac was reluctantly forced to laugh.

"You are not only impossible, Coates, but insubordinate too! But thank you, and yes, I will have a cup of tea."

"I'll get right on it ma'am!" Jen promised.

She was as good as her word, and returned with a steaming cup of tea in just under less than ten minutes. She found Mac with her chin cupped in one hand and staring at the 'phone as if mesmerised. As Jen placed the cup on her desk, Mac said ruminatively, "I wonder what the best time is to call the MedCen?" Jen thought the question was rhetorical until Mac cocked an inquiring eyebrow at her.

"Ma'am, I don't want to be a wet blanket, but all the extra security has kind of slowed down hard copy mail, it might be best to wait, maybe just an hour, or so?"

"Yes, thank you. Sit down for a moment please Coates; I need to ask you to do something for me. In fact, to help me out of a hole I've dug for myself. Are you aware," she continued, "that Mattie has developed an interest in classical music?"

"Well, ma'am, Petty Officer Neumann did mention something about going to a symphony performance with her."

Mac sighed, "I wish it had stopped at the symphony, but she's also keen to go to the Opera. She badgered me into getting tickets for a performance tonight..."

Jen had a bad feeling about this one and tried to interrupt, "Ma'am, I don't..."

"Hear me out please, Petty Officer," she paused, "No, that's not fair of me. Please listen a moment longer Jennifer. I got the tickets weeks ago, and had almost forgotten about them until Mattie reminded me this morning, that I had promised to take her. But I badgered Harm into flying back from DC today;" she reddened slightly, "I wanted to discuss, this," she gestured vaguely towards her mid section, "and what you said about this doctor friend of yours maybe being able to help Mattie. So, apart from not wanting to disappoint Mattie, and she really has set her heart on hearing this Neroni woman sing, it would really be good if she was out of the house this evening, to give Harm and me some privacy."

Jen groaned silently, this really wasn't fair. If Mattie hadn't been so set on going to this damn' opera, she could have gotten her to come and visit Fran. Oh, no, she probably couldn't. It was Friday, and unless Tim had duty, he would probably be at the apartment this evening. Jen had never been the Opera in her life, and from all she had seen on TV or heard other people say, it wasn't really something that she'd ever imagined doing. "Ma'am," she said unhappily, "If it was anything else... and besides," she played what she hoped was her trump card, "it's the Opera, I don't have anything to wear!"

Mac looked at her appraisingly, "I think we can fix that, we're about the same size... Yes, I think I have just the thing. So that's settled, come to Pacific Avenue at eighteen-thirty, we'll sort out a dress for you and then you can leave with Mattie once we've fixed you up. You need to be at the Opera House by twenty-hundred for a twenty-thirty performance."

Jen with the feeling that she had been shanghai'd could only mutter a helpless, "Yes, ma'am."

"Good, that's settled. I knew I could count on you!"

Jen returned to her desk still struggling with what had just happened. Just where in that conversation had she agreed to this scheme?

In her absence however, the mail pouch had arrived and she was kept busy for some time, sorting through what needed to go to Mac and what she could deal with. So it was with a minor flare of annoyance that she heard Mac's voice on the interphone, "Petty Officer, can you come in please."

Jen opened Mac's door, her CO was sitting at her desk with a slightly bemused expression on her face. "Coates," she said, "please pass the word to all officers on deck that I am calling a meeting in the conference room in ten minutes."

It was then that Jen noticed Mac's hand was lightly resting on her stomach. "Ma'am, have you just phoned..."

"The hospital? Yes."

"The test results, ma'am, they were..."

"Positive, yes."

Jen's brooding thoughts about being coerced into attending the opera were instantly swept away, and with her eyes shining in relief and happiness, she said, "Ma'am, I know we risked it the other night, but... this time I think it's good to go; congratulation ma'am!"

"Thank you, Coates. But we're not out of the woods yet. We've still got a long way to go, and there's still a risk that things can go wrong."

Somehow Jen didn't think the 'we' in this case included her. "Ma'am. We, Harm and Mattie at home, and me here, we will take the best care of you."

"Thank you Coates. Now please pass the word for my officers. Dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, m'am!"

In less than the stipulated ten minutes all available offices were assembled in the conference room, and there was a quiet buzz of anticipatory conversation. Jen was stood just inside the conference room door waiting to call the room to attention when Mac entered, when she realised that lieutenant Walker had taken post alongside her. Looking straight ahead the petite Texan said out of the corner of her mouth, and without apparently moving her lips, "The big announcement, huh, she got the test results?"

Jen replied, "Yes, ma'a... I don't know what you mean, ma'am", she corrected herself stiffly, and then as the door opened to admit Mac, "Attention on Deck!"

Everyone stiffened into a brace, until Mac told ordered "as you were!"

Taking her accustomed seat at the head o the table, she said, "Thank you all for attending at such short notice, it must have been inconvenient for at least some of you. Ordinarily I wouldn't call a meeting for what is essentially a personal matter, but there are factors which mean that this matter is going to impact on me, and therefore on you, professionally. At a time in my life when I had given up all hope, I am more than happy to tell you that I am expecting to give birth in just over seven months." She held up a hand to stop the murmur of congratulations. "Unfortunately there are already indications that, probably due to my age, this is going to be a tough time for me. I am not one to suffer alone, so it is also very probably going to be a tough time for you." She gave a half-smile to indicate that she wasn't being too serious, and paused for an appreciative chuckle to run its course. "Some of you may have noted that I have been UA a couple of afternoons this week. It is my understanding that this occurrence will need to be fairly regular. This means that I will be placing a great deal more on the shoulders of my senior staff. Additionally, while I am in the process of coping with the effects of pregnancy on my digestive system I would infinitely prefer privacy! I do not intend to make an announcement to the enlisted, as I have said it is essentially a private matter. But if any of you should be asked, then feel free to answer the question at your own discretion, although I have a feeling that the evidence of their own eyes should be sufficient in the not too distant future... probably about another six or seven weeks. Commander Coleman, I should like to see you in my office when we're done here, the rest of you please carry on." Mac stood and waited as her officers filed out each of them finding a murmured "congratulations", or "wishing you well, ma'am" as they left.

As the room emptied, Mac turned to Jen and said, "On my six, Petty Officer."

As they walked back along the corridor, Jen looked at Mac and thought that she didn't look particularly congratulated or well-wished and ventured, "I thought that went well, ma'am?"

Mac turned towards Jen and was about to reprimand her, for untoward flippancy when she saw the concern in her Yeoman's face.

"It went about as well as I expected Petty Officer. I hate having to speak about personal stuff, but if I'm going to be sick and miserable and absent throughout this pregnancy, then they have, at the least, a right to know the reason why!"

Jen could only say, "Yes, ma'am"

On their return to Mac's office suite Commander Coleman had already arrived and was waiting in the outer office. Mac sighed, "Come on in Commander" and led the way into her office. Mac kept her back to her visitor and stared out of the window while she asked the other to sit, and then waited, unable to watch the fussiness with which the other complied with the invitation, until she was certain Commander Coleman had assumed her customary posture.

"Commander I asked you to wait on me because you are my senior JAG now that Tom Sturgess has gone. If this early pattern of afternoon fatigue continues then you will have to accept responsibility for a great deal of the administrative work that at the moment comes to me. I have already asked the chain of command here at the Naval Station to cut orders for an Administrative Officer to take over from Lieutenant Simms - I'll come back to that matter in a moment. So, bearing in mind the extra work you will probably have coming your way, I need to know what your case-load is like, and what cases you can shed on to the junior JAGs. Please bear in mind that we have also lost Caroline Blaine, she has been PCS'd back to DC, so I need to review both sets of case files and pass them on down as best and as fairly as I can. You will undoubtedly collect one or more of those cases. I will do my best to keep your load as light as I can, and I hope shortly that we will be in a position to make everyone's life a bit easier. General Cresswell, Captain Walsh at Bremerton and Captain Harris at Key West as well as myself are combing through our rosters of JAGs afloat as well as ashore to try and fill some of the gaps. This will mean disruption, and we may have to lose as well as gain officers in order to comply with requirements of the service.

"Now, Lieutenant Simms: you offered yesterday to find out what she was playing at not by responding to my letter. I have since received a telephone message from her, but I am not very happy with it. Can you shed any further light?"

"Colonel, when I called at Lieutenant Simms' apartment, I discovered that she is unwell. I sought the appropriate attention for her, and I anticipate she will be sufficiently recovered to enable her to report to you on Monday morning."

Mac looked sharply at the freckle-faced commander, fully understanding that she had found Lieutenant Simms incapably drunk, and had warned her or otherwise taken steps to ensure that she would report Monday morning, sober and properly dressed. That knowledge she thought was sufficient. If she was made officially aware of the true circumstances, she would be forced to take action that at the moment she didn't wish to take.

Jen looked critically at her reflection. She wore her usual barely noticeable make up, with just a little additional eye liner that Mac had suggested. The black dress Mac had loaned her left her arms bare and shoulders bare except for two narrow straps, and had a moderately low neckline It fitted snugly down to her hips and fell in a long sweep to her feet, As she walked a split seam in the dress' heavy satin folds opened and closed to reveal her left leg to mid thigh. But it wasn't just the dress, although Jen had never really cared about, or needed such; on the rare formal occasions she had attended she had worn uniform evening dress blues or whites depending on the time of year. What made the biggest difference was the way Mac had dressed her hair, loosened from the French Plait in which she wore it for work, but coiled and pinned to the crown of her head with just one, slightly curled, lock allowed to hang to her bare shoulder in way that made her neck look longer and more elegant.

Jen had never really thought of herself as anything other than ordinary, but the girl - no, the woman - who looked back at her was, she guessed, worth a second look. "Well what do you think?" asked Mac.

"It's fantastic," replied Jen, "but it's not really me!"

Mac laughed, "It's too late to change it now, you've got to be on your way to the Opera House, Mattie! are you ready?"

"I'm here Mac... Jen? ...is that you? You look... wow!"

Jen look in turn at Mattie, wearing a simple full lenth ark green sleeveless dress that set off her red curls. "I think the same description could be applied to Mattie, don't you ma'am?"

"I agree, Petty Officer! Very taking. But come on you two, you need to go now!" and I need to get to the airport she said to herself checking with her internal clock.

With very little ceremony she bundled them out of the house, and barely waiting for the tail lights of Jen's escort to show that she had turned onto Broadway, she jumped into the Mustang and headed for Martin Luther King Jr Freeway and west to the airport.

Her emotions were in turmoil. She was in a fever of impatience to see Harm, and the little flutter she felt in her stomach had nothing whatsoever to do with the new life growing inside her. She was a little nervous about how he would react to her pregnancy, although she knew he loved children and, although he loved Mattie, he had always wanted a family of his own. Mac had grown uncomfortably aware while she was helping her, that she was jealous of Jennifer Coates; something she had thought she was long over! She was so used to seeing Coates either in uniform or the slacks and sweaters that were her preferred off duty wear that she had forgotten how very pretty the girl was, and with a slight feeling of shame, she was very glad that Harm hadn't seen his former neighbour looking as she had done tonight.

Jen had handed her keys to a parking valet and together with Mattie entered the foyer. The Lyric Opera House was not one of San Diego's architectural masterpieces, but Mac had said that it had just about the best acoustics in amongst all the city's theatres. It was still early when they arrived, so Jen was able to lead Mattie off to one side while they waited for the auditorium doors to open. Mattie however was craning her neck, obviously looking for someone in the crowd, and Jen hoped with a sinking feeling that Mattie hadn't arranged to meet Stacy Caldwell. After a few minutes her fears were put to rest, "There she is!" Mattie exclaimed,

"Who?" Asked a very much relieved Jen.

"Linda, Linda Graham. She said she didn't know if she could make it, but there she is."

Jen followed Mattie's gaze and saw Linda Graham, she was with her mother, Alice, and escorting them both was Miles Caldwell! At least she thought, he's not wearing that damn' denim shirt and those worn jeans. He was in fact, as were all the men she could see, properly dressed in a tuxedo, but even so there was still something casual in the way he wore it, as if he paid more attention to comfort than to appearance.

Perhaps fortunately for her peace of mind the arrival of Alice Graham and Miles Caldwell coincided with a general movement towards the auditorium as the doors opened.

Jen sat and suffered through the first half of the evening's entertainment, she was she decided either most unmusical or less of a poseur than the people seated near her, who appeared to be enjoying the singing on stage. It wouldn't have been nearly so bad, she thought glumly, if they sang in language she understood. When the house lights brightened to signal the interval, she determined that if she had to sit through another hour and a half of this torture, she would need a drink. She had to nudge Mattie into awareness, the teenager appeared to be welded to her seat with a look on her face that mirrored her feelings of rapture at what she had just heard and seen.

Jen seemed fated not to get her drink, for as she made her way towards the bar area she was intercepted by Mrs Lewis, who approached her, supported on her son Stephen's arm. Common courtesy compelled her to stop and pass the time of day until Mrs Lewis' attention was claimed by one her acquaintances when Stephen immediately stepped into the breach saying, "Jennifer, I could hardly believe my eyes, you look magnificent, the most beautiful woman here tonight!"

"Nonsense!" said an amused voice at Jen's elbow. You can't have seen Miss America over there!

Stephen froze. "Have we met?"

Jen stepping forward made the introductions, "Stephen this is Miles Caldwell, Miles, Stephen Lewis."

Stephen's curt acknowledgement "Caldwell." received a casual nod in return, and just for an instant wished that he'd learned to box in college.

"I've come to carry you away to share a glass of rather inferior champagne with Mrs Graham," said Miles, taking Jen's hand and drawing it under his arm, "I left her guarding a seat for you, so you had best come!" He gave a second casual nod to Peter Lewis and led Jen away saying, "He was a bit heavy handed with the flattery, wasn't he? Who the hell is he?"

"He's a decent, hard-working man, who lives with his mother out at Bonita - in the old part of town, and even if he was exaggerating in his flattery it wasn't very polite of you to say so!"

"I don't pay false compliments if that's what you mean," he retorted "Do you want that sort of thing?"

"Mr Caldwell, your wide experience of women must have taught you that compliments are always acceptable." She replied in demure tones.

"Maybe, to nine out of ten women they are, perhaps! But not Petty Officer Jennifer Coates! You're sensible enough to be realistic! You know very well that there are at least three truly beautiful women here tonight!"

Jen chuckled, "Just point them out, and I'll try and introduce you to them. There's the Miss America type you mentioned, where are the other two?"

He shook his head, "No, don't bother; I prefer to admire those types from a distance. My wide experience tells me that they don't have the certain something that you have!"

"And my _sufficiently_ wide experience of you Mr Caldwell tells me you are about to say something shocking!"

"No, no, I promise you I'm not about to say anything derogatory; beautiful girls, all of 'em! Only I don't want to kiss them!"

Jen gasped, "You don't want... honestly! And if you mean that you want..."

"Oh, I do," he interrupted her with a smile, "I would love to kiss you, here and now!"

"Well, you can't!" was the best response that a completely off-balance Jen could find.

"I know I can't - well, not here and now!"

"_Never_!"she exclaimed furiously, acutely aware of her flame-red cheeks.

"Now that," he said "is something else! Would you like to make a small wager on that?"

Desperate to recover, Jen said, "No! I never bet on certainties!"

He laughed, "You," he said completing her confusion "are a pearl!"

"Well what you are is a... a..."

"Yes?" he asked in a helpful tone

Jen broke into laughter and threw him a glance over her shoulder as she went to join Mrs Graham, Linda and Mattie, saying, "Wicked, sinful and shameless! Mattie that had better be Ginger Ale! Hello Linda, Mrs Graham, how are you? And more important to you, how is Robert?"

Jen took the seat that Mrs Graham had jealously guard for her as she spoke, completely turning her attention away from the shameless Mr Caldwell, who lounged away in search of a better wine. Mrs Graham said, "Robert is not doing as well as I'd like, nor doing as he is told! The doctors say that he shouldn't have any worry about permanent damage, and recommends that Robert comes off his anti-biotics as soon as he can. Otherwise, they say that all he needs is a balanced diet and gentle exercise until he gets his strength back. I must say though Jen I do like the way you've done your hair, is it a new style for you? No I won't compliment you any more, I'm sure you've had quite enough for one night, if not from Stephen Lewis, then certainly from Mr Caldwell!"

"Well you'd be wrong there Mrs Graham," Jen chuckled, "Miles Caldwell thinks that I am nothing but a candle in comparison with at least three suns!"

"Really?" Replied an amused Mrs Graham, "I suspect he is as Robert would say, trying to snow you! But I'm glad that you are getting on with him, I was afraid that I had rather forced you together. And you know I would never want to do that!"

"Oh no, I do know that! Don't worry about it. I was bound to meet him sooner or later," she added with a significant glance at Mattie .

"Do you like him? His ways are a bit strange, I was afraid he might offend you."

"No not at all, he makes me laugh."

Mrs Graham smiled, "Well yes, but it's not just that. He is so kind. He just shrugs off and won't talk about what he did for Robert. But Robert tells me that Mr Caldwell flew him out from some remote jungle airstrip in his own airplane to his company's medical centre and made he sure he was taken care of until the air ambulance could be cleared to fly into Paraguay and pick him up. Robert tells me that he barely left his bedside for three days while he was in the worst of the fever. Jen, I can never thank him enough." She broke of her tale, to delve into her purse for a delicate handkerchief which she used to blot her eyes. Overcoming the emotion in her voice, she continued, "And as if he hadn't already done enough for us, he somehow managed at the last minute to get tickets for tonight, and then he bullied me into coming with him. Apparently Mattie told Linda that she was coming and Linda mentioned it to him. But somewhere along the line he got the idea that I would like to hear Neroli sing, so he made me come. It was so generous of him, because I get the feeling that he isn't really a music lover."

Resolving to have a word later with Mattie about the exact timing of her conversation with Linda, Jen still suspected that Mr Caldwell's last minute kindness sprang from pure self-interest, and she struggled not to tell Mrs Graham of her suspicions. Miles Caldwell's return carrying a tray with three glasses of wine, perhaps fortunately made any further discussion of his morals and manners impossible. Jen thanked him for the wine with a smile, but was unable to resist the temptation of asking him if he had enjoyed Neroli's performance so far.

"Not one hundred per cent" he replied instantly "A little too much _vibrato_, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh, I see you're an expert," Jen said, trying not to smile, "I'm just a novice in this field, what does that mean, please?"

"Oh, let me see, my Latin's a bit rusty, but I think it means to tremble," he said carelessly, "And she does, too, like jello turned out on a plate, and about the same shape too!" he added thoughtfully.

"That's dreadful, you awful man!" protested Mrs Graham, threatening to break into giggles, you know I didn't mean that when I said I thought she had too much _vibrato_, you know I didn't!"

"I thought she had too much of everything" he said frankly.

Mrs Graham protested again, but Jen caught taking a sip of wine, choked.

She was saved from any more provocation by the bell that warned the audience that the second part of the performance was imminent. Jen called to Mattie who had been sitting with Linda a little apart from them.

Jen's opinion of the entertainment hadn't changed from that she had formed during the first half of the performance, but she did derive some amusement by watching for Neroni's _vibrato_, as defined by Miles Caldwell, and grinning at the thought, she was forced to admit that however uncomplimentary he had been, there was more than just an element of truth in his words. From the man's words her thoughts turned to the man himself. She was almost certain that he cared for music no more than he cared for... for... his family! If it was flattering to think he had procured those last minute tickets because he might have heard that she might be there, it was also ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as it had been for him to say that he wanted to kiss her! As she recalled that part of their conversation, she was grateful for the darkness in which she sat as she felt her cheeks flame anew at the memory. The thought wasn't entirely unappealing, she mused, but for him to just come right out and say it! She had never been more grateful that Mattie hadn't been within hearing distance. Besides, she wasn't at all sure of her feelings, she did feel a certain attraction towards him, she acknowledged that, but was afraid that it was based on a shared sense of the ridiculous instead of anything deeper. He was entirely selfish, caring for nobody and for nothing - unless, as she suddenly remembered he took a liking to them! He certainly seemed to have taken a protective interest in Robert Graham, or was his care of the boy, just as he had said, only a means of putting his uncle in a position of owing him a favour? No, she decided, apart from his sense of humour, and maybe his smile, there was really nothing about Miles Caldwell that was attractive. And that, she told herself, was that!

Her final decision coincided almost perfectly with the final curtain, and with a feeling of being reprieved she rose to her feet along with the rest of the audience, but to her dismay nobody moved and it was impossible to squeeze past the others in the row as the auditorium exploded into a frenzy of applause and shouts of 'bravo!' and 'encore!' as the curtain rose and fell several times to reveal the performers lined across the stage and acknowledging the applause. At last, after what seemed an age, she was able to guide Mattie out to the foyer, nervous that the teenager, whose progress was markedly slower than that of the surrounding crowd, might be jostled or even knocked to the ground. Guiding Mattie to one side, she made her sit in one of the chairs lining the walls and watched the scene before her.

The parking valets were working flat out, grabbing tallies from the nearest hands among the jostling crowd of impatient car-owners, and once cars had been recovered almost throwing the keys at their owners. Jen decided that it would be profitless to try and compete with the unruly mob, and although not quite content to just sit and wait, it was a more preferable choice than the alternative. She was however not destined to sit for long, a familiar voice raised in gentle mockery asked her, "What, aren't you afraid that your coach will turn back into a pumpkin? Or has your driver forgotten you?" He had she thought, indignantly, the sneakiest way of just... sneaking up on people!

"No, she replied in a carefully neutral tone, I'm driving us, Mattie and me," she added in explanation, "but I didn't feel up to mixing it with that mob, so I figured I'd wait until the heat died down."

He looked at the crowd for a moment and then said, "Yes, probably a wise choice under the circumstances. Give me your tally, no don't argue, your Mattie is almost asleep! Thank you."

Taking the tally he plunged into the crowd, leaving her to stare after him. He was the most infuriating man she had ever met! Just when she had decided he was a selfish jerk, he suddenly decided to be a White Knight!

He returned long before she thought it was possible, but he held her car keys out to her saying, "Your pumpkin, I beg your pardon, your carriage awaits! I'll show you where it is."

Jen's conscience pricked her as she remembered Mrs Graham and Linda, "What about the rest of your party?" she protested, "Shouldn't you be looking after Alice Graham?"

"Mrs Graham is perfectly capable of looking after herself for a few minutes," he replied coolly, and before she could protest at his callousness, he smiled and added, "she's locked in conversation with an old dragon, who just about told me straight out to get lost. She terrifies me, so I did what I was told, like a good boy." He contemplated for a moment and continued, "and a rather a strange experience, it was!"

Mattie was provoked into an outright giggle, and Jen, in her struggle to keep a straight face was forced to give vent to a snort of amusement, but managed to reply, "If you kept the effort up, perhaps it wouldn't feel so strange?"

"Good girl!" he said approvingly, and smiled down at her. "And now Miss Coates, I present to you your carriage!"

They both stood by as Mattie squirmed her way into the passenger seat, and Jen turned to him holding out her hand and saying, "Thank you, it would have taken much longer if you hadn't plunged into the thick for us. Goodnight."

He took her hand in both of his and smiled again. Jen had a panic-stricken thought, Oh God, he's too close, he's going to try and kiss me! But his pale eyes had seen the confusion and panic in her brown ones. He contented himself by giving her hand a gentle squeeze, and saying, "Goodnight, Jennifer." And for once there was no mockery in his voice.

Jen settled herself as best she could into her driving seat and edged the Escort out into the traffic, her mind whirling. Just when she thought she had rationalised her thoughts and feelings about Miles Cavendish, he again had thrown her off balance.

Mattie spent the ten minute drive from the Opera House wrapped in memories of the fantastic evening she had just had. She had not just enjoyed the music, she had loved, it was so powerful and so moving, and the whole theatre experience. She had enjoyed her visit with Fran to the San Diego, but tonight had been special. She really would, she thought, have to find some way of thanking Jen for taking her. It was strange though, how Mac had had to cancel tonight, something had come up she'd said; she hadn't seemed in a rush when she was helping Jen get ready for the opera. Her thoughts wandered off track, Jen had looked really fantastic tonight, and the way she blushed when Stacy's uncle talked to her was adorable. He seemed very keen on her, and maybe, thought Mattie she kinda liked him too. He was funny too in a weird sort of way, although sometimes she wasn't really sure whether he was joking or not, and he was Stacy's uncle. So when she married Stacy and if Jen married Miles, then they really would be related, Jen would be her aunt, and that would be really cool. Her daydreams ended as she was nudged out of her contemplation of various schemes by which she could foster a romance between Miles and Jen, by the realisation that they had stopped outside her home on Pacific Avenue, and that Jen was looking at her quizzically.

"Hey, wake up sleepy head. You're home!"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Jen, I had the greatest time tonight. Thank you for taking me!"

"Mattie, I would say anytime," answered a smiling Jen, "but...

"But Opera isn't really your thing?" Mattie finished the sentence for her.

"No... no, it's not," Jen's admission was accompanied by a droll look.

"In that case, I need to thank you even more. So thank you Jennifer Coates." she added in a strangely formal tone.

"Go on, get outta here!" Joked Jen, but strangely moved by the gravity in Mattie's voice.

Jen watched until Mattie had let herself into the darkened house, and then slipping the Ford into gear, she headed for home and bed. Arriving at the apartment, she wasn't surprised to find the "Do Not Disturb Notice" hanging on Fran's bedroom door, nor was she surprised to find plate of sandwiches wrapped in cling-film on the breakfast counter, together with a note saying 'Jen, Where the Hell are you?' Smiling at the idea of a note being addressed in the present when it could only be answered in the future, Jen headed for the bathroom to prepare for bed, as she did so, she caught sight of herself in the mirror, and angling it slightly down, she managed to move back so she could see most of herself in the reflection. Impressed despite herself, she thought, well I never thought I was all that beautiful, but I scrubbed up OK tonight.

Mac relished the feel of power under the Mustang's hood as she pushed along the highway towards the airport, she was nudging the speed the limit and keeping a careful eye on the rear-view mirror just in case there were any bored traffic cops out there; not that she begrudged paying the ticket if she was issued one but tonight she begrudged the time it would take to write one; time that would keep her just that little longer away from Harm. His flight was due to land at twenty-oh-nine and she had left home at nineteen-forty-nine hours, that was cutting it a bit fine; even on a clear highway it was a twenty minute drive, she would only need to be stuck for a for a few minutes at lights, or get caught behind a slow mover to be late. It was an internal flight, so there were no Customs or Immigration formalities to go through so deplaning would be quick, but then she reminded herself, this was a civilian flight and it would take a few minutes to transfer from the aircraft to the arrivals hall, she might still make it.

On her arrival at the parking lot Mac was annoyed to find that she would have to park about five minutes walk from the airport building, and hurried across the tarmac and then down the flagstones walkways until she arrived almost breathless in the arrivals hall. She looked up at the arrivals board and there it was, "Flight UA491 Ex WAS to SN - Baggage Unloaded", she looked around wildly, Harm, with all his experience of TAD and cramped staterooms knew better than to load himself down with unnecessary luggage; he would have travelled with only a carry-on val-pack, he must be here! Then she heard his voice from just behind her, low and throaty and throbbing with emotion, "Hello gorgeous."

With a low, inarticulate cry she spun around and threw herself onto his chest, kissing whatever bit of his face she could reach, and hardly able to see through her tears, until he was kissing her. She couldn't get enough of him. She never wanted to let go of him again! She pressed the whole length of her body against his, and even through the intervening layers of cloth his reaction to her was unmistakable. They stood lip-locked, mouths and tongues devouring each other, until after what seemed an all-too-short a time, he broke away from her with a groan, but still holding her hands he said in a teasing tone, but with that throb of emotion plain in his voice even as he tried to control his breathing, "Hey, Jarhead - stand down, we're bucking for a charge of public lewdness here. Is this the sort of behaviour the good people of San Diego should expect to see in a Lieutenant Colonel of the United States Marines?"

His words made no sense for a few seconds and then she realised he was fighting to control his reaction to her. Her first thoughts were that the good people of San Diego could go to hell! Fighting down her own emotions, she smiled through her tears and said, "No, it's the sort of behaviour the good people of San Diego should expect to see in a woman who is in love with her own husband and hasn't heard his voice, seen, felt, smelled or tasted him for far too long !"

Mac was completely oblivious to the hundreds of strangers who had seen their embrace, some with frowns of disapproval, others fond smiles, and laughing and crying at the same time, clinging on to his arm as if she would never, ever let him go, she led him to the car. She then did something that she had hardly ever done in the seven years she'd owned the car, she passed him the keys, and said "You drive!"

In contrast with the drive to the airport which had flashed by, never had twenty minutes seemed to last so long. She barely gave him time to apply the emergency brake and kill the ignition before she had dragged him out of the car and across the front yard to the door. She frustrated herself by fumbling the key in the lock, but after what seemed an age she had the door open and turning to him she put her face up to be kissed. He kicked the door shut behind them as she led the way, walking backwards and dragging him by the hands up the stairs to their bedroom.

As the sweat cooled on their naked bodies, he reached down and salvaged the discarded bed-sheet from the floor and drew it over them. They lay on their sides, arms wrapped around each other and legs entwined. He managed to reach her face with his left hand and gently stroked his thumb against her temple, she moaned with pleasure, a sound that sent a shiver down his spine. Smiling he said, "If this is the sort of welcome I'm going to get, I think I'll leave home for another month!"

She looked him straight in the eye and said, "Harm, if you have ever loved me, never, ever leave me for so long again!"

"Sarah MacKenzie-Rabb, I think I loved you from the day I met you, I never stopped loving you through all those years we argued and fought and squabbled, and I still love you now. And I swear on that love I will never leave you again for so long as long as I live."

"You say that now, she smiled mistily sat him, but will you say the same when I'm fat and grumpy with varicose veins?"

"Mac, that's not going to happen!"

"Yes, Harm, it is; in a much shorter time than you think!" She pulled away from him and discarded the sheet so that he could see her naked body. "All this." she said "is going to change!"

Harm's face was an exemplar of bewilderment. "What are you trying to tell me? he asked.

She searched his face with suddenly anxious eyes, desperate that his reaction matched her anticipation of it, "What I'm trying to tell you fly-boy is that I'm pregnant".

Harm looked at Mac, his jaw dropped in disbelief, "But... I... we... you... you're pregnant!" The stunned expression on his face changed to one of pure joy as he stumbled over his words. "You're pregnant? You're sure? We're going to have a baby?" Mac nodded mutely, the anxiety fading from her eyes as she saw the beaming grin on Harm's face and the joy in his eyes.

"You're pregnant... but how...?" he began.

Mac's relief found expression in laughter, as she stretched out her arms to him to hold him and to pull them back to closeness. "Well," she said suggestively, "I thought we'd just demonstrated that, but if you need me to show you again...?" she let her voice trail off.

"No..." He saw her raised eyebrow, "No... no, I don't mean that I wouldn't... of course I would, but not now...I mean how can you know? we've only just..." he made a vague gesture.

Mac smile was indulgent, "I thought lawyers were supposed to be smart," she teased him, "Of course it didn't just happen tonight! It's been seven weeks!"

Harm felt slightly put out, "Seven weeks?" he queried, and I'm only just finding out?"

"Dumb fly-boy," she grinned at him, "I only found out for certain today. I was told on Monday that it was a probability, that's why I called you then to tell you to come home today. I knew the blood tests would be in, and I wanted, no, I needed you to be back here so we could share this together!"

He looked at her, the smile momentarily fading from his eyes, "What if the tests had been negative?" It was his turn to look anxiously into his wife's eyes.

Mac felt a prickle of tears and her throat threatened to close, but she was able to whisper, "Then I would have needed you here even more, to hold me, and to pick up the pieces of my heart."

Harm felt his own emotions rise, but he gathered her gently into his arms, and in a familiar, loving gesture used the ball of his thumb to gently wipe the tears from her cheeks, and then kissing her softly he held her close, whispering her name over and over, and cradling her head on his shoulder closed his eyes. When they awoke the next morning they were still in the same position.


	14. 13 October 2007

**Saturday 13 October 2007**

Jen woke to the call of her six o'clock alarm and rolled out of bed, reaching for the folded T-shirt and shorts on her chair. A few minutes later teeth brushed and hair pony-tailed, she was running easily along the grass verge of the Ocean Beach Bike Path. She felt good this morning, and wondered why. As she ran she realised that while she had loved having Mattie to stay, the extra miles driving her to school had meant waking a half-hour earlier, and then picking her up from school to visit Fran, the visit itself, had all meant extra hours when she would normally have been relaxing. And then there had been all the storms with Mac - she still couldn't quite believe that she hadn't ended up facing serious brig-time. Then there was the horror at Falls Church. No wonder she had been tired and she hadn't even noticed it! It's funny she told herself, after last night being so late ending, she thought she'd have been tired this morning, but it seems like the absence of stress had left her really relaxed, and it was Saturday, she smiled planning a nice long lazy day, oh crap... the car needed a good wash, she needed to return Mac's dress... no... she had better take it to the cleaner's first... and she needed to go shopping this afternoon, she had invited Tony and Sally to dinner. That meant she'd be cooking for six and she'd need extra mineral water for Sally and ginger ale for Mattie, and she had no idea what she should be serving; after Sally's dinner she couldn't just serve up brought in Pizza, no matter how much Tim and Mattie would have loved it. She couldn't do chicken, there was no way she could compete with Sally's recipe. It would have to be something different!

Still puzzling about what to cook for dinner, she barely paused as she turned back into Cape May Avenue at the end of her five miles, and trotted up the steps to the front door. Still preoccupied, she went into her bedroom, and stripping off her running kit, she wrapped a towel around herself and walked into the bathroom. Less than a second later, she was back outside, unsure whether to laugh or not. She had been sunk so deep in thought that she hadn't heard the running water until she'd opened the door. She just hoped that Tim hadn't noticed her entrance and hasty exit. Regaining her composure, she knocked on the door shouting, "Hey Tim. That's my shower time you're cutting into!"

Retreating into her bedroom, she hastily discarded the towel in favour of her bathrobe and returned to the lounge area to wait for her room-mate's boyfriend to get out of her shower. She didn't have long to wait, Tim was out in five minutes, dressed in his utility pants and a green T-Shirt, and vigorously rubbing his scalp dry. "Sorry about that Jen," he apologised, "but I'm due on formation at oh-eight-hundred, and you were back sooner than I thought, you must be getting faster!"

"Oh, well if you've got duty..." she stopped and grinned at him, "it still doesn't excuse you cutting in to my 'me' time!"

He grinned in return, "Squids!"

"Go on", she said, "get out of here!"

Showered and dressed, Jen stood studying the contents of the fridge. Yes, they'd bought a quite a bit of stuff yesterday when she'd brought Fran home, but it was every-day, heart of the meal stuff. There was ground beef for Bolognese, or meatloaf, sliced ham for salads or sandwiches, but nothing that she would want to serve up as a dinner for guests.

She turned at the sound of a door opening, in time to see Tim now fully dressed and booted, as he left Fran's bedroom. He said quietly, "Jen, all fooling aside, thanks for looking after Fran. It means a lot to me to know that if I, when I, get deployed that she'll have friends who care about her."

Jen look at him with quick concern, her heart leaping to her throat. "Tim, please tell me, that you didn't propose to her after you'd gotten orders?"

"No, I wouldn't do that to her" he answered quite seriously, "but Jen we've got to expect it to happen. One day, I will get orders." He shuffled nervously, "That's why I want to set an early date, so if we get deployed and anything happens, I'll know she'll get the benefits..."

"Tim, nobody can say nothing's going to happen; we're not safe even here at home. You heard about Falls Church? We lost one of our officers there; he was on TAD, to a little Virginia town. But if you do get deployed, you can rest easy, I'll look out for Fran, I can't say any more than that. Now get out of here, before you get me all weepy!"

Harm also woke early, for a moment, so long had he been away from home, that he had trouble in recalling just where he was. But the feel of Mac lying in his arms, and the feel of her legs twined around his own was enough to reassure him that he was where he belonged. Trying not to disturb her, he gently disengaged her arm from around his neck and rolled over on to his side and looked at the woman he had married. It was something he loved doing, watching her sleep. In a fit of whimsy he had once thought that Mac slept in the same way that she did everything, with no half measures, she slept as aggressively as she prosecuted or defended in court, or ran an obstacle course, or, he smiled, as aggressively as she attacked him when they had an argument. They hadn't argued for a while now, but with them both being stubborn proud and reticent about their feelings, it was pretty certain that they would clash again - someday. In the meantime, he was just happy to be with her again watching her sleep.

It was some time later, although to Harm it felt like no time at all, when Mac woke. There was no gradual awakening, no sleepy mumbling, no rubbing of eyes or yawning. One second she was asleep, and the next awake. She smiled as soon as she became aware of his presence, "Good morning, sailor," she murmured as she put her am around his neck and drew him down for their first kiss of the day. As they kissed, Harm felt his body responding, as did Mac, "oh, yes", she invited and kissed him again.

It was some time later, when she rolled to face him, he was lying prone with his face turned towards her and a cocky grin on his face. She kissed him lightly on the shoulder, and said teasing him, "Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?"

He smiled back, "Ugh, me Tarzan, you Jane."

"Well, if that's the case, then Mighty Hunter, how about hunting up some breakfast?"

"Coffee, OJ, eggs?" he asked her.

Mac blenched, "Oh, you bastard," she muttered, and clasping her hand over her mouth, fled naked into the bathroom.

"What? What? what'd I say?" protested Harm completely taken by surprise in the sudden change in her demeanour, and grabbing his boxers from the floor, he jammed his legs into them and followed her into the bathroom. He was in time to see her knelt in front of the toilet, her body heaving with each spasm of nausea. He dropped to his knees beside her, and put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, "Leave me alone, you son of a bitch!" she screamed at him. Harm drew back in hurt surprise; even when they had been at their most hostile to each other, he couldn't remember her ever using that sort of language to him.

He returned to the bedroom and sat slumped on the edge of the bed thoroughly bewildered, and upset. It had only been a few minutes ago that they had finished making love and had been gently teasing each other, then without a hint of a change in mood she had sworn at him, and told him to get away from her. She had never before, when in distress not of his making, refused his sympathy and understanding.

"Harm?" her hesitant voice made him turn, she was standing in the bathroom doorway, dressed in one of the big blue bath sheets, he had more than once fantasized seeing her wrapped in, but his fantasies had never included her with unbrushed hair or miserable tear-stained face.

"Harm, I'm... I'm... so sorry. I shouldn't have said those things... it's just that the last two weeks have been so horrible, with this damn sickness... and I missed you so much... and I guess I just thought that everything would be OK now you're home... and I was upset that it wasn't... and... I'm sorry, and I won't..." The rest of her words were silenced as he pulled her into his arms and buried her face in his shoulder. She would have been content just to stay there for a while, but she raised her head from his shoulder, and said tremulously, "You'd better let me go sailor, I'm a mess and I stink!"

"If you think that I even care about that when all that worries me is that you're so upset, then you married the wrong man, gorgeous."

"No," she said, "No, I didn't, I have never had any doubts that I married absolutely the right man. I am sorry Harm; I never meant to be such a bitch! You..." she added with a brave attempt at a smile as she pulled away from him, "You may not care that I stink, but I do!"

Drawing her back to bed he drew her down so that they sat side by side, "That, Mac, was, taking it all in all, one hell of a homecoming. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed it, well most of it, anyway. But, sweetheart, there's obviously something or things that you haven't told me. We need to sit down and talk this whole thing through, and you're going to have to be completely open and honest with me, and I'll try to be the same for you. OK?"

Mac managed a watery smile, and a nod of her head.

"Good," he smiled, "now let's get you cleaned up; has anyone told you recently, that you stink?"

Her damp giggle was all the reward he needed.

Half an hour later, having shared a shower and shampoo, the two were in the kitchen, Mac sat at the table while Harm fumbled with kettle, tea leaves and tea pot, at first he had been shocked when Mac told him that she couldn't stand the taste of coffee, and then his sense of humour kicked in as he considered his caffeine loving wife not being to stand the taste of it. In the aftermath of the subsequent storm she watched him with a brooding expression on her face, while he tried to move as little and make as little noise as possible.

In the interests of domestic harmony Harm had decided to forgo his usual morning coffee and join Mac with tea and toast, in what he considered a rather poor substitute for breakfast. During the rather heavy silence that ensued they heard Mattie moving around upstairs, so neither were surprised when she lurched into the kitchen saying "Hi, Mac, what's for...Harm!" her question ended on a squeal as dropping her sticks, she lurched across the kitchen and threw herself on him, laughing and crying and scolding incoherently all at the same time.

"Why didn't you call and say you were coming home? Are you home for good? Or do you have to go back? How long for? Don't leave it so long next time! When did you get back? Mac, why didn't you say he was coming home?" The words tumbled out her mouth in a rapid stream, and together with the ecstatic look on her face dispelled the last of the tension in the kitchen.

Ham, supported her to a chair, and making sure that she was in control of her legs watched her take her seat, and picking up her discarded sticks he placed them within her reach. Smiling at her, he said, "Well, if I can remember your questions in order; one, I didn't call because Mac told me to come home, and I figured she'd tell you; two, no, I'm not home for good, not just yet; three, yes, I'm sorry, but I do have to go back; four, Not long, I will make sure of that; five, I got back last night; and six... six you'll have to ask Mac." He finished.

Mattie sat silent while she absorbed the information, and then turned with an accusing stare at Mac, "So, he got home last night, and you didn't tell me, you sent me off to that dumb opera when I coulda been home with you two. Why didn't you tell me Mac?"

"Well, we kinda wanted a little bit of just us time, I guess."

"Oh, yeah, right, did you tell him about...?"

"Yes, of course I told him!"

Mattie turned to look at Harm, "And?"

Harm grinned, "Mattie, I could not tell you how happy and excited I am" then exchanging a quick glance with Mac he asked, "How do you feel about it Mattie, about having a little brother or sister?"

"It's fantastic! I'll be a big sister! And I'll be able to tell him all about you... Oh, OK, it's cool, I guess."

Mattie's abrupt transition from excited big sister in the making to laid back teenager was enough to make both Mac and Harm laugh.

Mattie looked back and forth between them, suspicion growing in her mind, "Have you two been..." words failed her, but Harm's reddening face was sufficient to give him away, Mattie pulled a face, "Oh, gross!" she complained.

Mac laughed and draped an arm around her Mattie's shoulder, "How else do you think I got this way?" she asked.

"Oh, OK, that's it! We are not having this conversation!" Mattie's pout deceived neither Mac nor Harm, and their laughter merely increased. Mattie stood and gathered her sticks, preparing to leave the room glaring at both of them.

"Mattie," Mac said, "Please sit down again, there's something important that I need to tell you and Harm about." And seeing Harm's anxious look added, "It's nothing to do with the baby, but it is something we need to discuss."

Mattie and Harm both sat silent, waiting for her to continue. "Mattie, you know you went to dinner last week with Petty Officer Coates' new neighbours? Well, Dr Cameron, Tony, is it? Was speaking to Coates the other evening, and he said he'd like to look at your back. He said he thinks that there might possibly be a chance that he can help you and get you off those sticks."

The following silence was broken by Harm, who cleared his throat and said, "Of course, that's something we'd all like to see happen, but do you know why he said that?"

"No, I don't, but Coates said he'd like to meet all three of us together, so he can explain what he's seen, what he knows, and what he thinks he can do."

Harm looked at Mattie and said, "It's your decision, boss, it's your body, but if you want my opinion, if this doctor reckons he can get you off those things, then I say it's worth a try."

"You know," she replied, you haven't called me 'boss' since before... before the accident. But, yeah, if he can fix my legs, I might still be able to apply to the academy for next year."

Harm and Mac exchanged glances. Mac said, "Mattie, don't get your hopes up too high, even if this doctor fixes your legs, it's still a pretty tough medical to get into the academy, and even tougher if you want to go on to flight school."

Mattie considered what she had just heard, "You don't think I can do it, do you?" she retorted, "But if Tony Cameron can get me back on my feet, then I _will_ do the rest. Try having a little faith in me for a change!"

"Mattie, we've got all the faith in the world in you, we just want you to know that you're going to have to face a lot of challenges. Even if you make outstanding progress, you're asking a lot of yourself to get academy fit in a very short time." Harm's face and tone were sympathetic, but Mattie still seemed inclined to believe he was expressing a lack of faith.

"If you'll excuse me," she said, rising to her feet again and collecting her sticks, I'm going to my room; I've got homework to finish!"

Harm heaved a sigh as he watched the teenager he loved like a daughter stump her way out of the kitchen. "That went well, I thought," he remarked with heavy irony.

Mac reached out to take his hand as it rested on the table top. "That isn't the end of it; I'm sorry Harm, but we do need to talk about our four percent miracle."

Fran had woken up and stumbled through her morning rituals in slow time. She had poured herself a cup of Jen's fresh-brewed coffee, and had toasted a bagel before she wandered over to the corner of the lounge where Jen seemed nailed to the computer, "Hey, what's cookin'?" she asked, seeing that Jen was surfing for recipes.

"Funny girl, huh?" scoffed Jen. "Look, you know I told you that Tony and Sally were coming to dinner tonight?"

"Did you?"

"Yes! You know I did... oh... maybe you were, oh, no... that was the night before last! Oh, Fran! I forget to tell you yesterday, Colonel MacKenzie got her results back, and she went public!"

"That's great Jen. Really great, but you didn't 'forget' to tell me anything yesterday, I didn't see you yesterday! You left for work before I woke up, and you still hadn't come home when we... when I went to bed. So," she added, with a sly smile, "who is he? Come on. Give!"

"There's no-one, Fran," Jen denied, although her conscience pricked her as an image of Miles Caldwell floated though her mind. I didn't come home after work yesterday, because I didn't have time. I went straight from there to Mac's because I had to get changed to take Mattie to the Opera, and I had to borrow a dress from Mac, so it was easier to change and do hair and make-up there."

Fran looked at Jen, her expression clearly indicating that she didn't believe a single word Jen had just said, and said "Yeah, right."

"Honestly, Fran, that's exactly what we did. And I have never been so damn' bored in all my life!" Except during the interval she thought. "Come on and have a look, I've got the dress Mac loaned me in my room, come on I'll show you!"

Fran on seeing the dress, was forced to accept Jen's explanation for her whereabouts the previous evening, but remained sceptical about there not being a man involved, and even managed not to blush when Jen accused her, that just because she was newly engaged she was looking for romances everywhere.

Engaging in bantering accusation and honest denial the pair returned to the lounge area, where Jen resumed her place at the keyboard. "What was it you were looking for anyway?" asked Fran.

"Right, Tony and Sally are coming to dinner tonight. Partly so Mattie and me can say thank you for them feeding us last Sunday, and partly because he's the doctor that sent you to hospital after we called him out in the middle of the night. We can't risk anything too spicy, because Sally's pregnant, so I need to find something that's gentle..."

"Hey, hold on there, girlfriend, did you just say Sally's pregnant?"

"Yes, so what?"

"Well, Sally _and_ Mac. What are you some kind of fertility goddess? You just stay away from me... well... until Tim and me get married!"

Jen laughed at her friend's exaggerated reaction and said, "Well you can see my problem. I want something tasty, but not too spicy or too bland and that will look good served up as a dinner, and not just food to be thrown down our throats!"

"Chicken?"

"No, Sally served chicken last week."

"Fish?"

"No... oh, why not... we practically live in the ocean, but we never seem to have fish! Let me see if I can find a quick, easy recipe."

It only took a five minute web-search before both pointed to the same item on the screen and simultaneously said "Yes!

Jen grabbed her pencil and notepad and checking back to the screen scribbled a shopping list, and then the two retreated to the couch where taking up comfortable positions at opposite ends squabbled amicably over wine, starters and desserts.

It was early afternoon by the time the detailed planning of the menu was complete, and Jen said she would need to fly if they were to have any chance of getting dinner ready on time. Taking Mac's dress with her to drop off at the cleaner's she headed first for Pacific Avenue to collect Mattie.

Mattie had been waiting for Jen's arrival, and having made her peace with Mac and Harm had spent the period after lunch playing scrabble and accusing the two lawyers of cheating whenever they used obscure legal terms. When she heard Jen's knock at the door, she picked up her sticks and said a casual goodbye, and in answer to Harm's "Where are you going?" she replied airily, "Dinner with friends"

"I am intending," she added with dignity "to give you two some more 'us' time" and the bubble of dignity bursting, she giggled and allowed Harm to walk her to the door.

Harm met Jen at the door with one of his warmest smiles, and pressed her to come in for at least ten minutes and a cup of coffee, but she excused herself on the grounds that Fran had made her run late and she was now in a frantic rush, but she promised to call tomorrow and spend some time catching up with him.

The shopping at a specialist store on Newport Avenue took little time, but was a little more expensive that Jen had hoped, but she reflected that Fran would split the cost with her. Loaded with the newly purchased supplies Jen was obliged to make two trips from car to elevator, while trying to ignore Mattie's deliberately unhelpful warnings and suggestions. She sent Mattie on ahead to open the apartment door and to summon Fran to give her a hand carrying the shopping from the elevator.

She was still occupied in sorting and stowing the various parcels, packages jars and bottles when a rap at the door prompted her to ask Fran to answer it. As she opened the door, Jen was slightly surprised to hear a strange, but also familiar, male voice say, "Fran! I'm so sorry, I've only just got back into town and I heard from Mrs Graham that you had been ill since I last saw you."

His voice brought Mattie's head up with a jerk from where she had been kneeling, putting some of the heavier items away in an under-counter cupboard, she propped herself into the lounge area and exclaimed with happiness "Oh Stacy! It is you! At first I thought it was only your uncle!"

She held out her hands to him which he took in both of his and smiled warmly at her. Too warmly, thought Jen who had turned to inspect this unexpected, and to her unwelcome, visitor.

"You thought I was my uncle? He queried, "I'm beginning to think it's you that needed the doctor, not Fran!" He supported Mattie to the couch where Fran had just sat down, and took a seat in one of the arm chairs. "Fran," he said, "what have you been doing with yourself? You're still a shade on the pale side, you need to look after yourself, and not try to do too much too soon!"

The hint of laughter in his voice robbed his words of any offence, and Fran responded with one of her sweet smiles and while denying him the right to tell her what to do, it was obvious to Jen that she wasn't wholly displeased either with his words or his manner, and embarked on a downplayed and light-hearted description of her recent illness.

Jen took the opportunity to study him. It was easy to see, she thought, why Mattie had fallen so quickly and completely under his spell. He was very good looking, and was evidently at ease in company. He was assured without being over-confident and towards Fran he was friendly but not over-familiar. A fact that let Jen breathe slightly more easily, she had been half afraid that Tim might return and take exception to the older man monopolising Fran's attention. And he was older, Jen noted with concern. He was a good couple of years older than herself, and she knew that she was ten years older than Mattie, so he was at least twelve and maybe more years older than Mattie. She could see no great resemblance between the two Caldwells, Stacy had a hint of the aquiline features of his uncle, but otherwise they were completely dissimilar. Stacy was not as tall as his uncle but seemed more compact, he certainly wasn't as loose limbed. He was dressed neatly in an open-necked shirt and dark pants instead of the work shirts and jeans favoured by Miles. As he talked to Fran his profile was turned towards Jen and she had to admit it _was_ a handsome profile, and as Mattie took advantage of Fran coming to a pause in her story, Mattie took the opportunity of introducing him to "Jen, my kinda-sister".

He rose to his feet and coming forward he offered her his hand saying "Hello, I've been looking forward to meeting you, but I admit to being a little nervous too."

"Nervous?" Asked Jen raising her brows, "Why? I don't think you need to be nervous of me, has someone been telling you I'm some sort of dragon lady?"

"No not at all, a very much loved friend and guardian!"

He smiled, but Jen looked for and failed to find any trace of the warmth which made her respond when the elder Caldwell smiled, and realised that this man's smile did not reach his eyes. She thought she saw a calculating look in them and that he was watching closely to see what sort of an impression he had made on her.

She said, "That doesn't seem much of a reason to be nervous of me."

"No, and it's nonsense!" Mattie said, "How can you talk such rubbish, Stacy?"

"It isn't nonsense. Jennifer loves you, and she doesn't know me so she must have doubts about me, I have a spotted reputation and it's only natural that she should!"

Mattie smiled at him for his words, but they had a different effect on Jen.

"Trying to handle me Mr Caldwell?" she said.

"No, not at all," he replied, "but perhaps I was trying to take the words out of your mouth."

Jen gave him points for thinking on his feet, but said "You're wrong, I wouldn't be so rude."

"And it's not needed!" Mattie declared with heat, "I won't let anyone say it, not even you Jen!"

"Well I haven't said it, Mattie, and I'm not likely to, so there's no need to throw a hissy fit! So, Mr Caldwell, have you met your uncle yet?"

"My uncle?" he repeated. He glanced at Mattie, "You said when I came in that you thought I was my uncle! The only uncle I've got - if he's still alive - is roaming around South America somewhere!"

"No he's not," replied Mattie, "I mean he's not there now. He brought Linda Graham's brother home from Paraguay, and he's here in San Diego at the Holiday Inn."

"Good God," he said blankly

"He's not at all like you, but I think he's nice, don't you Jen?"

"Yes, he's nice enough," Jen admitted in non-committal tones, but could not resist adding, "a bit quirky, but yes, he's OK."

"Well, that's a relief!" Stacy said ruefully, "I've never met him in my life, but I wish he'd chosen some other city. It's a bit awkward that we're related. The story is that he's the black sheep of the family!"

"Oh I think you have met him!" Jen said, unreasonably irritated by his response, "He doesn't make a positive claim, I admit, but he thinks he might have seen you once, when you were in diapers!"

He shot a quick look at her, but smiling said, "Oh, it's quite possible, I suppose, but I can hardly be blamed for forgetting that meeting can I? I wonder, though, what's brought him back to the States?"

"I told you! Mattie reminded him, "He brought Robert Graham home! And he took such good care of him that Mrs Graham says she will always owe him for that. And Robert says that he saved his life, and won't hear a word said against him!"

"Worse and worse! He said with an overdone grimace, "A male nurse in other words. A faint hope that he might have made something of himself dies stillborn."

"Yes," agreed Jen, "a prodigal son who comes home with a fat cheque book might be forgiven for his sins." She showed him a smile as false as his own.

"Oh, everything would be forgiven." He admitted, "That's the way world runs!"

"Well it seems wrong to me!" declared Mattie

"Mattie's right, money shouldn't make a difference!"Fran said.

"And how could anyone expect a man who's been kicked out of his own family to come back and share whatever he's got with the people that kicked him out is totally way out of line!" Mattie declared, and then added, "Oh, I don't mean you Stacy; you had nothing to do with it. And I don't expect your uncle is very rich, well he doesn't look as if he is, but he is staying at the Holiday Inn, and that's not the cheapest place in town is it Jen?"

"No it's not," Stacy answered for her, adding one more reason for Jen to dislike him, "He had a reputation of being a spendthrift with hardly ever having two cents to his name. I just hope he doesn't do a moonlight flit at the Holiday Inn and expect me to pay his bill!"

He saw that he had shocked Mattie and Fran was looking at him with a slight frown, and hastily backtracking he added, "He caused my father and Grandfather a great deal of embarrassment, so I've never heard any good of him. I must admit though that I have wondered if he could be quite such a black sheep as I've been told! You are right, I shouldn't judge on hearsay; I shall have to meet him and make up my own mind!" He turned towards Mattie and said, "Apart from my uncle descending upon us, what have all our friends been up to while I've been away? Has Annie Carter been to see the dentist yet, or she still groaning in agony every time she has a cold drink? Do you know if Helen Ancrum's mother has forgiven me for not making her dinner party? Oh, just tell me everything!"

As the biggest event to have hit Mattie's small circle of friends was the return home of Robert Graham, it was not long before Mattie was telling him all about it and asking his help with a word-search game that she was compiling for Robert's amusement. "We're all doing what we can to help him. He's been so sick that he can only take short walks, and it's like he can't go swimming or bowling or do any of the things the rest of us do. But he's smart and funny; he likes crosswords and word games, so when Linda asked if I could like help, I said I sure would!" She added, to Jen's annoyance, "I was sure you wouldn't mind!"

Stacy made an appropriate response, but Jen, in addition to her reservations over his pursuit of Mattie, had already taken a strong dislike to him, received, and welcomed the impression, that he was not too impressed with the intrusion of Robert Graham into the Ocean Beach community.

With Mattie gone, Harm turned to Mac and asked her to sit with him for a while. They sat on the couch with his arm around her while she leant in to his side. They sat in comfortable and comforting peace, until Harm at last broke the silence. "You certainly gave me a lot to think about this morning. I guess I never really thought about how being pregnant could affect you. I mean, with what you told me back in DC, neither of us it though it was likely, I am so happy that you are, but I'm sorry you were so miserable, so sick and so scared, and mostly I'm so, so sorry that I wasn't here for you when you needed me to be."

Mac tilted her head back so she could see him; he looked more than apologetic, he looked miserable too. She had formed the intention of telling him just how selfish and uncaring he had been to be absent when she had needed him, but the look on his face drove all such thoughts from her mind. She squeezed his hand and said, "Hey, it's OK stick-man, you're here now. Anyway, Coates was a great stand-in for you. She's been so very helpful, I honestly don't know what I would have done without her. She's put up with my temper; she's looked out for me while I was being sick. She respected my privacy; she didn't even tell _me_ that she thought I might be pregnant! And then she chewed my ass off and spit it out when I needed it!"

Harm's raised eyebrow asked for information, so nestling down against him, Mac told him of her memory of the day when Coates had put her straight. Harm dutifully acknowledged the humour that Mac had injected into the story, but he was feeling guiltier by the minute. As Mac finished her story, and waited expectantly for his reaction, he looked down at her and said, "That decides it. Mac, I've tried to keep it from you for a few weeks now, but I'm not happy where I am. It's a feeling that's been growing for a while." He paused while he marshalled his arguments. "Most of people I work with are pretty good. The money is good, very good, much more than a Captain' pay-check. It's the top management and the clients that I can't stand. All the partners care about is the bottom line; they don't give a damn where the money comes from. That means that they don't care what sort of clients they take on. Look at this Federal Grand Jury that's keeping me away from you, it's a Rico case, and that's typical of the work I am being asked to do - defending racketeers and gangsters. Hell, I'm quite happy defending ordinary criminals, but these guys, they turn my stomach. And there's likely to be more Grand Juries in the future. Now you have told me how difficult our baby is likely to make life for you, it's the push I needed. As soon as I'm finished in DC, I'll be telling old man Wheeler that I'm through."

Mac twisted again so that she could see him. Now that he had spoken she thought she saw an expression of relief in his face. "You don't have to quit your job, just because I'm getting fat," she told him.

"No, I don't, but of all the reasons I've got, that's the best one!" he answered. "I'll start looking for work while I'm away in DC, I know a couple of guys who know a couple of guys back here in San Diego, and I've still got cash in the bank. Bud and Harriett have been great, putting me up at their place; I haven't had to use the hotel allowance I've been paid, so we won't starve if all we have coming in is your pay-cheque."

"When are you going back to DC, Harm?"

"I thought you'd never ask!" his elliptical reference to the question every serviceman or woman gets asked when they get home leave made them both smile. Harm sighed and said, "I can stay until tomorrow evening; I'm booked on the red-eye, wheels up at oh-one-hundred hours, gets in to Ronald Regan at oh-eight-thirty, local time, and then straight to the Federal building."

"How long, Harm?"

"Mac, it can't be much longer; maybe a week, maybe two. Believe me Mac, as soon as I can get my six back here it'll be here so fast you'll think I flew in by Tomcat! Hey, am I boring you?"

His sudden question was occasioned as Mac gave a huge, gaping yawn which she vainly tried to hide behind her hand. She smiled apologetically and excused herself, "You never bore me; you infuriate and frustrate me sometimes, but you've never been boring. In fact, with the stupid stunts you've sometimes pulled, thinking you're Superman, you've scared me witless, but you've never bored me. It's just that I get so damned tired at times." She stopped talking for a couple of minutes and then asked, softly, "Harm, come to bed with me, please."

"I thought you were tired?"

"I am tired, I just meant come and hold me while I sleep, and then you can watch me all afternoon."

"That sounds like the perfect way to spend the rest of the day," he smiled and standing offered her his hand to help her off the couch.

Ten minutes later, laying beside her in bed, he said, "My God! She's going to kill us both for this!"

"Who, Mattie?" said Mac startled out of her doze.

"No, not Mattie. Who haven't we told yet?"

Mac gazed at him in baffled ignorance.

"Tomorrow, my darling wife, we are going to have to drive down to La Jolla and throw ourselves on the mercy of the court!"

"Oh crap! We haven't told your mother, yet!"

"Exactly!"

" Don't worry fly-boy, I'll protect you!" and Mac cuddling up against Harm closed her eyes and slept.

Stacy Caldwell left the apartment on Cape May Avenue after Jen had given him a pretty broad hint by saying that she was so sorry he had to cut his visit so short, but his being so considerate would give them a chance to get ready for the evening. He climbed into the BMW and turned east towards the city before turning right onto the I-5 South, past the Marine Corps Recruit Depot. He took the off ramp that would take him to his motel on Pacific Highway and Beech, but when he came to the fork in the ramp he changed his mind and cutting through traffic he veered left to head towards Seventh Avenue and the Holiday Inn.

While the hotel was not the most expensive in town, and looked a little worn around the edges, it certainly wasn't the cheapest but it irritated Stacy that his black sheep uncle should be staying there. Not that he had any wish to stay there, and no matter how much money he might owe in Richmond, Las Vegas or Los Angeles, he had no intention of ruining his local credit by running up bills in San Diego; his present accommodation, a small, cheap motel suited his current needs perfectly.

The sky had filled with cloud during the afternoon, and by the time Stacy had found a parking spot, one of San Diego's rare September showers had begun. Despite the warmth of the day, the rain had brought with it a certain damp chill which made the climate controlled atmosphere of the hotel all the more welcome. Inquiring at the desk for Mr Miles Caldwell, Stacy was informed that Mr Caldwell was in his suite, and that she would call him to check if he was happy to have a visit. Apparently he was, and Stacy armed with the suite number made his way to the elevators.

Miles Caldwell examined the younger man with a cynically lifted eyebrow, which did nothing to make Stacy feel more comfortable. Ushering his nephew in, he resumed his seat at the writing desk, on which lay an opened newspaper, and leaning back casually in his chair he said in a tone of mild amusement, "Good God! Are you my nephew?"

"So, I've been led to believe, _if_ you are Miles Caldwell?"

"I am, but don't let that worry you," Miles said kindly. "You don't look much like your father, he never was one for fashion; I take it those togs are the latest thing?"

"Oh, they are, they are!" said Stacy, looking curiously around the suite, "I'm sorry, I've been away from San Diego for a while, or I would have come to see you earlier. I am sorry, but until I returned, I didn't even know you were back in the States."

"There's no need to apologise; I didn't expect to see you at all!"

"Well, you are my uncle, and I should call to say hello, and even welcome back."

"What even to a black sheep like me? Come on, nephew, that's laying it on with a trowel. You're wondering what the hell brought me here, and wishing it hadn't!" He laughed, seeing that he had stunned Stacy into temporary silence. "Get off your high horse, and don't try to fence with me. I've got little time for the so-called courtesies, and you don't owe me any respect or deference. Sit down, why have you really come to see me?"

"Well, what _has_ brought you back to the US?"

"Inclination. A drink?"

"No, thank you, it's a little early for me!" but Miles had caught the furtive lick that Stacy had given his lower lip.

"H'mm, so you're a boozer are you? Oh well, I guess you'll have caught your heiress before she discovers it, so it doesn't really matter does it?"

Stacy replied defensively, "I don't know what... who has told you..."

"Don't play dumb, and don't treat me as If I was! Jennifer Coates told me - and I don't think she's one of your greatest fans!"

"No, she's not!" Stacy rapped, his face darkening at the memory of his afternoon, "She's dead set against me! I met her this afternoon for the first time, but it's plain to see that she'll try and stop me, if she can!"

"There's no doubt of that. And I can tell you, there's another who might want to watch out for, that's Harmon Rabb."

"Oh, he may try to stop me, but I'm not worried about him, he's a careless sort of guardian, hardly ever in town, but that damn Coates woman is another matter..." He stopped in mid sentence realising that he had been led into indiscretion, and summoning up his smile said, "The thing is, Mattie has got property coming to her; you can't blame her friends and family for looking out for her, but we love each other, and the question of her inheritance has never come really come up between us."

"Well, a girl of seventeen may think she's fallen in love, but it's my experience that it's only a passing infatuation." Miles commented cynically, "And you're not going to try and tell me that you haven't thought about her inheritance, are you?"

His smile fading in the face of his uncle's ironic gaze, Stacy replied, "Dammit! How can I marry a girl without money?"

"I don't think you could. According to what I've heard, you're practically bankrupt, and you owe large sums of money to some quite unpleasant people."

"Who told you that?" Stacy demanded suspiciously, "I didn't think you knew anybody in the States!"

"Why should you? I do have some friends left here and there, but it was Letty who told me that you were flat-busted."

"Do you mean my great-aunt Letty?" Stacy asked in disbelief, "Do you expect me to believe that you have visited _her_?"

"I don't give a damn what you believe, why should I?" Miles said with tremendous affability.

A red-faced Stacy answered, "I apologise! It's just that... well, she's so strait-laced, that I would have thought that... well, I mean..."

"What you mean is that you'd have thought that she would have slammed the door in my face!"

Stacy burst out laughing, "Well yes! If I don't owe you respect, then there's no need for me to gift-wrap it, is there?"

"Not in the slightest!" Miles assured him, "The thing is that your great-aunt - to think of Letty being a great-aunt! She's only about a dozen years older than I am! - well, the thing is, she was about the only member of the family that ever had any time for me. That might have been because she detested my father, of course. Come to think of, she wasn't all that keen on _your_ father, either. Or it might just be that she was partial to a scapegrace!"

"Why were you packed off to Brazil, or wherever? I've never known why. My father never spoke of you except to say that you weren't to be spoken of!"

"Oh I was a disgrace to the family. I started chasing the girls when I was at VMI, and... er... got caught _in flagrante_, as they say; that's why they expelled me."

Stacy looked at him in awe. "And... and at Colombia?"

"I don't recall, but probably something very similar. The trouble was I was always ready to break the rules, always ready to party and to hell with the consequences. Mind you that was nothing to the row I caused in Richmond, a damn' fool I was and crowned my career by trying to elope with another man's fiancée. That was the last straw as far as the family was concerned, so they got rid of me; I don't blame 'em." His mocking smile turned on his nephew, "You weren't so lucky either, I hear?"

Stacy stiffened, "What do you mean?"

"Tried pretty much the same thing with the Elliott girl didn't you?"

"That is not something I am not willing to discuss! It was an unfortunate mistake, we thought we were in love and we got carried away! You don't know the whole truth, and... I don't have to justify myself to you!"

"God, no! And I hope you won't! It's none of my business. I may be your uncle, but I've really very little interest in you. You remind me of me, and I find myself dead boring. The only difference I can find is that you're a gambler. That's something that's never interested me, gambling bores me to death!"

"You can't be serious - or you know nothing about gambling, and I don't believe that!"

"Oh, no! I tried gambling, but it didn't pull me in, too slow!"

"Slow?" Stacy gasped.

"Yes! All you do is put down your chips and watch the turn of a card, or the roll of the dice. Same with horse-racing. Now if I'd ever been able to ride in a Moto Grand Prix or to race in an Indy car, now that would have been sport, but the opportunity never came my way."

"But they said that you cost my grandfather a fortune!"

"I was expensive, admitted Miles, "but I wouldn't put the cost as high as a fortune. But I got a great deal of amusement out of my spending. What the hell is there amusing in poker or blackjack or craps?"

Stacy found this attitude totally incomprehensible. He stared, stunned, at his uncle but finally managed to say, "I should envy you, I guess! But I don't. It's in my blood, and it must be in yours too. Father, grandfather, great-uncle Charles... all of them!"

"True, but remember that I was a huge disappointment to the family. My father even suspected I had been switched at birth. A nice theory, if you like, but one that doesn't hold water." He stretched in his chair and stood gazing at Stacy with an impassive expression on his face. "Have you lost Highfields, or Santa Rosa yet?" he inquired.

"God no, what would anyone in their right mind stake against that ruin? It's mortgaged all the way and falling to pieces, it was mortgaged when my father died, and I can't pay it off. I hate the place, and I wouldn't waste a red cent on it!"

"Our ancestors must be turning in their graves!" Miles remarked flippantly. "Perhaps you were the one who was switched at birth! Or did you come to visit me thinking that I might be able to restore your fortune?"

"No," responded Stacy casting a disparaging glance at his uncle's work shirt and jeans, "I'm told you came home baby-sitting Mrs Graham's son, which hardly makes me confident that you're swimming in it. I just hope that story doesn't leak out!"

"Oh, I shouldn't worry about that if I were you. I wasn't baby-sitting him. I was combining the duties of nurse and valet!"

"God! If that story gets out...! Please, uncle, consider the family name!"

"Why should I?"

"Well, I am your nephew! And you are, after all, a Caldwell!"

"Yes, but I'm not really all that proud, as for our being family, no-one can blame you for that - I don't. But if it bothers you, just deny the relationship, I shan't mind!"

"It may seem funny to you!" Stacy said, reddening, "but it's not funny to have you here looking like an out of work fruit-picker! I don't know how long you plan to stay here," he added, rising from his seat, "but do you have any idea what the charges are in this hotel?"

"Don't give 'em a thought!" Miles said, "I won't chalk 'em up to you. If I end up broke, I can always do a runner!"

"Very funny! If you'll excuse me!" Stacy gave his uncle a brief nod of his head and left the room.

Miles watched him go, a cynical smile on his lips, as he thought for a few minutes, then he took his cell 'phone out of his pocket and pressed a number on speed dial.

A female voice with the just a hint of a southern accent answered the call, "Good evening, the Haskell residence."

"Good evening Julia, it's Miles Caldwell, I need to speak with George, is he available?"

"Miles, honey, it's so good to hear from you again - George, it's Miles for you - Miles when are you coming home? Oh here's George."

"George, I need you to find out some information for me. First find out who's holding paper on Highfields, and then find out the current market value of the Santa Rosa parcel in the Sonoma Valley, got that? Good. And tell Julia, I hope to be home soon. Thanks. George, 'bye."

He closed his phone and returned it to his shirt pocket and sat staring into space long into the evening.

Stacy Caldwell had returned to his parked car, still so ruffled by his encounter with Miles that he was forced to sit and wait while his anger cooled enough to allow him to drive. He considered whether he had acted wisely in letting his temper rule him. He was not naturally an even-tempered man, but used a front of smiling good humour behind which he concealed his true nature. He began to be annoyed with himself for let his mask slip and wondered just how he had allowed his uncle to get under his skin, but it was not for some time that he grudgingly admitted that he had been made to feel small. Not that it had had anything to do with Miles' extra inches, nor really his attitude, which had less of an uncle-nephew style, but more of a man talking to an acquaintance for whom he felt indifference. Recalling how Miles had lounged in his chair, in a worn denim shirt and faded jeans he felt his resentment growing again. In some mysterious way he had been made to feel awkward. He had expected to be received, if not with pleasure then at least in recognition of a gesture towards forgiveness and reconciliation. But that damn' black sheep had seemed to be unaware of the proper dynamic. He had been neither pleased nor displeased and he had shown only casual interest in his nephew.

But even through his anger it occurred to him that his uncle might be useful to him; he would have to turn him into a friend, if he could. Miles knew of his pursuit of Mattie and there was little doubt he had done so from Jennifer Coates; he had shown no signs of disapproval, he had actually taken as little interest in that as he had in the news that Highfields was mortgaged. But if he was friendly with the Coates girl, it might be worthwhile to make friends with him and gain his support.

Marriage held little appeal for Stacy Caldwell, but it looked as if a rich marriage was the only escape from certain pressing debts. He did, as Miles had said, owe money to some quite, no make that some very, nasty people. Their presence in Las Vegas had made it necessary for him to quit that town, before their collection agents could visit him armed with baseball bats. He was now determined to marry Mattie and use her money literally to save his neck. He would persuade her to elope if he needed to, but would rather marry her with the consent of her family - such as it was, but he couldn't afford to wait the months between now and her birthday. From what he had gathered, the couple Mattie lived with weren't her parents, her guardian was some sort of lawyer who worked in DC, and the wife wasn't even legally connected to Mattie at all, but she did seem to place a lot of trust in and rely upon that damn' Coates girl!

It was not he reflected an ideal marriage. He would have preferred - and had preferred - a bride who reached legal age, but there were very few rich, single girls, and since his attempt at elopement with the Elliott girl, he had become _persona non grata_ in the Virginian social circles to which his family had belonged. On the other hand Mattie was beautiful and if he had to be married it might as well be her. He had soon been made aware of the degree of influence Jennifer Coates had over Mattie, and had hoped to win her over. Five minutes in her company had been enough to shatter that hope. It was a pity she was so hostile, but she seemed to be on friendly terms with Miles, so it could only help if he gained his uncle's support.

Jen having rid the apartment of Stacy's unwelcome presence, set about the task of reconciling herself with Mattie who had resented Jen's incivility towards the man she thought she loved. "How could you, Jen," she had demanded, "You practically threw him out!"

"Yes, I did," Jen admitted candidly, "but think for a moment; what would Mac have said if she had found out that I had let him stay while you were here? Yes, it was good of him to call in and see how Fran was doing, but my conscience wouldn't allow me to let him stay. And don't say you weren't going to invite him to stay for dinner!"

"Would it have been so bad, Jen, and would Mac have needed to know?"

"Mattie, you know it would, and yes, Mac would have needed to know. I know you wouldn't lie to her, but sometimes, not telling what happened is the same as lying."

"What like her not telling us, or even Harm that she was pregnant?" Mattie said accusingly.

"No Mattie, she did tell us, and although we guessed she was, she had to wait for the result of the test, and she told us as soon as she got it! So, that's not the same thing, is it?"

"No, I guess not," a reluctant Mattie agreed.

Relieved at the turn the conversation had taken away from the question of Stacy's presence or absence, Jen said, "OK, now that we've sorted that out, we need to get ready for dinner. Do you want to chop vegetables or set the table?"

"What vegetables have you got? Oh... onions, no I'll see to the table!"

"Right, that's six places Mattie, it'll be a bit cramped but I think we can manage it, if we put Tim at one end and Tony on the other."

Fran who had listened to their conversation held her peace for a few minutes, and then covered by the clatter caused by Mattie's setting the table, she joined Jen at the work top and said, "Jen, I guess it was nice of Stacy to call in and ask me how I was doing, but you know, I'm glad you and Mattie were here. Oh, I wasn't afraid of him, nothing like that, but I don't think I would have been comfortable if we had been alone in the apartment."

"Fran, if you had been alone in the apartment, I hope you'd have had better sense than to let him in."

"Jen, how couldn't I when he had made all the effort to drive all the way out here?"

Jen stopped chopping her onion and said, "Well think about this. How do you think Tim might feel if he came back and found you and Stacy alone together, in the apartment?"

"Oh, Jen! Tim trusts me!"

"Of course he does, but does he trust Stacy?"

"I don't know... no he can't... I don't think they've even met..."

"So he might have been upset?"

"Yes... I guess."

"Well, there's your choice: upset Tim, or upset Stacy?"

"You don't even need to ask that!"

"No, I know I don't. Fran you've got a kind heart and you don't like hurting people's feelings, but you're engaged to Tim now, almost a married woman, you've got to start thinking for the two of you now, or," she added meaningfully as she poked Fran in the ribs, "is it the three of you, already?"

"Jennifer Coates!" gasped a suddenly blushing Fran, "Don't you dare put your 'fluence on me! I told you; stay away from me until after Tim and me are married!"

"What's so funny," Mattie demanded suspiciously, as she looked across at the two of them giggling together.

"Oh, it's just a bit of Fran's nonsense," Jen said with a chuckle, "She's convinced herself that I've got some sort of hex that makes women pregnant, and she says she doesn't want to get that way until after she and Tim get married!"

"It's not nonsense," Fran protested, "Look at the facts, Jen shares an apartment block with Sally, now Sally's pregnant. Jen works with Mac, now Mac's pregnant. Jen works with me _and _shares an apartment with me, that's double the risk! So I'm warning her, no hexes!"

"Well if you're that scared," teased Mattie," the sooner you and Tim set the date, the better!"

Jen sat back in one of the lounge area chairs, the dinner had been a success, for a first time try-out the recipes had worked well. There had been some conversation and some laughter, Fran's pretended objection to sitting next to Jen had to be explained, above her protests that she wasn't really pretending. Jen had been pleased that her two sets of friends seemed to have got on so well together; Tony had laughingly coerced Tim into helping with the clearing away and washing up, so Jen, Mattie, Sally and Fran had retreated to the lounge area and were relaxing over coffee and chocolate covered mints.

Sally complimented Jen on the meal, which she said she had understood from the table conversation had been all her own work.

"No, not at all!" laughed Jen, but pleased with the compliment anyway. "No, I can't claim sole credit. In fact Fran saved the day for us!"

"How so?" asked Sally.

"Well the recipe called for the fish stew to be based on red wine, and I was just about to pour it into the casserole dish, when I remembered that you couldn't have alcohol! So, Fran rescued the less appetising bits of fish that we'd cleaned off, and put them in a pan of water and boiled them up to make a stock, so we used that instead!"

Sally smiled her appreciation at a blushing Fran, and asked, "Did you say it was a casserole? How long was it in the oven for?"

"Oh, about forty minutes, I guess..."

"Uh huh, well you probably needn't have worried then; the alcohol would probably have evaporated during that time. But it was sweet of you both to worry!"

Jen and Fran could only look at each other and laugh.

Mattie asked, "Sally, is it alright if I ask you some questions, about..." and she moved her hands in an arc over her own stomach.

"Why?" Asked Sally.

"Well I'm kinda curious about what happens when a woman's pregnant, what it feels like and all, you know...? I know what it says in the books and stuff, and I can't ask these two... I want first hand intel!"

"Mattie!" Jen gasped, scandalised.

"No, it's alright Jen," replied Sally, and then turning back to Mattie she asked, "Mattie, are you...?"

"No! - I've never even..." Mattie broke off in embarrassment, her cheeks and even her ears crimson, in a shocking contrast to her hair. The laughter that pealed out from the three older women didn't help her make a swift recovery.

Fran was the first to recover from her amusement, and taking pity on Mattie's state, she waved the other two into silence and asked, "Seriously, Mattie, why so interested?"

Mattie looked a bit uncomfortable and said, "Well, I suppose... Jen, it is alright if I say, isn't it, I mean she's like already gone public?"

Jen thought for a moment and said slowly, "Yes... Fran and I already know, and she won't be able to keep it a secret for much longer anyway, so yes, go ahead."

"It's Mac," Mattie said to Sally, "She's about seven or eight weeks pregnant now, and Harm's still tied down in DC, and it looks like I'll be looking after her at home until he gets back. Jen's got her back during the day, but Mac won't complain if she's having problems, so we need to know that everything's like going OK with her."

That name again, Sally thought, but asked "Did you say, Jen works with Mac?"

"We both do," Fran made her contribution to the conversation, "I just work in the bull-pen, but Jen's her Yeoman."

"But you're both navy, right?"

"Yes." Jen agreed as Fran nodded her head.

"So, Mac's in the navy too?"

"No, she's a half-colonel in the Marines."

Sally sat back and with a helpless shrug, said "OK, that's it; now I'm officially confused. Jen is a Yeoman - whatever that is - not Yeowoman and Mac's a Marine in charge of sailors; I do still get to call you two sailors, please? Otherwise my head is likely to explode!"

Sally's mock confession brought more laughter in its wake; this time Tim turned around from the kitchen are and asked, "What's tickled all your funny bones?"

"That, my favourite Jarhead, is none of your never-mind! This stuff is strictly for the girls!" Fran told him, although with a smile.

"Yeah, is that so? Well I damn' well better be your favourite Jarhead," Tim grinned back, before returning to his duties with the drying cloth.

"Isn't that a kind of insult," asked Sally, "I mean, calling him 'Jarhead'?"

"All depends how you say it, and who says it; in the wrong tone or from the wrong person, it could be fighting talk." agreed Jen.

"Yeah," Fran chimed in, "if you really want to insult a Marine, just call him 'soldier'!"

"Hey, pipe down you lot, intruders!" Mattie interrupted in a stage-whisper, and with a jerk of her thumb indicated Tim and Tony who had now finished their chores and were walking towards them.

The arrival of the two men meant a re-shuffling of the seating arrangements; Sally stood up to let Tim have her seat and then sat on his knee, while Tim sat on the floor with his back to the couch, where Fran could run her hands over the short bristles of his regulation hair-cut. She lovingly tweaked one of his ears, and when he turned to look at her, she asked, "Can we tell them, do you think?"

"Ooh! you are pregnant!" Mattie squealed.

"No, no, I'm not, I promise, despite Jen's best hex! But we do have an announcement to make. You do it Tim!"

Tim grinned, and looked down at the rug for a moment, and then looking up he said, "I spoke to the Chaplain today, and he agreed we can do it. We're getting married on December 24th. I know it's a bit quick, we only just got engaged, but the time's right for us, and that what counts. Besides," he added, his face becoming serious, "I thought I was going to lose Fran last week, and that thought was killing me; we've been together over a year and I... we know that this is right for us."

Jen joined the others in congratulating the engaged couple, but as she looked at Tim, she couldn't shake off a cold feeling that had settled in the pit of her stomach.

Sally and Tony protested the early date set for the wedding, Tim and Fran couldn't possibly make all the arrangements in less than two and a half months.

"Two and half months?" asked Tim, "We could plan the invasion of Europe in that time!"

"We?" asked Fran

"Yes, us, the Corps," Tim explained. "Anyway, there's not much planning needed. Corps marriages are practically SOP. I wear dress blues, Fran... dress whites or a wedding dress?"

"Wedding dress!" she said positively.

A chorus of approval greeted her decision, and Tim reached up to take her hand in his, his smile meant that he needed no words at that second.

The conversation continued for what seemed like a very long time to Tim and Tony, as the four women plunged into a detailed discussion of bridesmaid's outfits, flowers, invitations and a host of minute details, that caused Tim and Tony to grimace at each other and for Tony to stage-whisper to Tim, "Now see what you've done!" an interruption that earned him a dig in the ribs from Sally and a promise of later retribution.

Eventually a yawning Sally said that she was sorry to break up the party, but she really did need to get to bed, she stroked her stomach gently and said "He or she, can be very tiring to carry around! - there you are Mattie, there's one symptom for you!" and as the thought struck her, she added "God knows what how tired I'll be at the end of the day by the ninth month!"

Jen reminded by 'the end of the day' of one last duty for this day, looked up at the clock and her face fell, "Mattie, it's nearly midnight! I've got to get you home; Mac'll kill the pair of us! And I still have to work with her!"

Tim looked concerned, "Are you driving out to Lemon Grove, now? I'll come with you! You don't mind, Fran?"

"No, you go with Jen; just don't wake me up if I'm in bed when you get back!"

"You go on ahead Sal, I'll walk Jen and Tim down," Tony suggested. Sally gave him a measuring look and smiled and agreed.

In the elevator, Tony produced his wallet, and opening it extracted a card which he gave to Jen and smiling at Mattie said, "That matter we spoke about the other night, get Mattie's folks to call me when they've made a decision."

"About my legs, Tony?" asked Mattie.

"Yes... Jen mentioned it to you, then?"

"No, she mentioned it to Mac, which reminds me," she said looking at Jen, "I haven't decided yet when we're going to have that conversation, but we will, we will." She turned back to Tony, "Is it a big operation?"

"I don't know yet, Mattie, but if it's what I think it is, then no, you wouldn't even have to spend one night in hospital, although you will need to rest at home for a day or two."

"Then I say, let's do it!"

"If I could, I would, but you're still not eighteen, I need a parent or guardian's consent, before I can even examine you."

"Then I'll just have to see that they agree with me then," Mattie said.

The Rabb house was in total darkness when Jen eased the old Ford to a stop. Tim climbed out of the rear passenger side door and waiting till Mattie had untangled her sticks and her legs he walked with her across the front yard and waited until she had unlocked the door and let herself in.

Returning to the car, he looked across at Jen and said, "That's it. I'm done. Home Jen!" Jen smiled at the mock-command tone he'd used and gently accelerated away to Ocean Beach, home and bed.


	15. 14 October 2007

**Sunday 14 October 2007**

Mattie was woken the following morning by Mac banging on her bedroom door and telling her to rise and shine. That they had a busy day ahead of them and that she needed to get her six in gear and get squared away now.

A grumbling and sleepy Mattie went through the first part of her morning routine in a daze, but the sting of hot water from the shower brought her to something resembling life, so that in a little under half an hour, albeit with still damp hair, she made her arrival at the breakfast table. Mac looked a bit grey, and catching Mattie's eye she nodded glumly, then made an attempt to smile, saying "I'll be fine soon."

Mattie asked what was going on and Harm, who was busy at the coffee machine, turned grimaced and said, "La Jolla."

Mattie's eyes went round and she looked at them both in turn and said quite lowly and with distinct emphasis on each syllable, "Oh. My. God. You haven't told Trish and Frank, have you?" and seeing the admission of guilt in their faces said in definite tones, "OK, I'm not going!"

Mac said, "We thought we'd tell them in person, and not just over the 'phone, and that's why we're going today."

"Not working: I'm still not going," said Mattie, "Trish is going to murder Harm, and I don't want to have to testify against her!"

Harm grinned weakly, and said, "I knew you'd say that, so when I 'phoned Frank earlier, I made a point of saying you would be coming with us, and you wouldn't want to disappoint an old man, now would you?"

Mattie knew that Frank had a soft spot for her and glowered at Harm, "Not fair! She cried, "That's a real dirty, low-down trick! You know I can't disappoint Frank!"

Mac and Harm, neither of them fooled by her pretended outrage smiled at her and each other. Mattie looked at them each in turn and said, not totally displeased with the idea, "I've just been handled, haven't I?"

"Yep, " they both replied in chorus.

Jen woke at her usual time and took only a few minutes before heading out for what she thought of as her daily penance. She had just reached the elevator when she heard her apartment door open behind her and Tim's voice calling for her to hold the doors. She was surprised to see him in singlet and shorts, and even more so when he said he'd like to run with her this morning, but she no objection and as they left the building she told him to follow her. She soon realised that while she was probably faster in a sprint than the rather stocky Marine, he would undoubtedly beat her over any distance. She told him that her normal run was to a small bike circle just under the I-5 overpass, and that if he wanted to go ahead she'd be OK. Tim nodded his acknowledgement, but kept pace with her until they'd returned to Cape Bay Avenue.

The two of them covered with a sheen of perspiration, walked slowly up and down for a few yards in each direction as they recovered their normal breathing rhythm. Tim gave Jen a smile and said, "Not bad for a squid. You do that every day?"

Jen nodded, "Most days, I try not to miss any, otherwise I'll just get lazy. And when I do have to miss a day, I feel guilty and grumpy."

Tim nodded, "You're an addict. Some people say it's adrenalin, others its endo... somethings or others, but your body gets used to a daily dose, so when you don't run, it's like withdrawal symptoms."

Jen looked at him suspiciously, "Are you trying to snow me, or have you been listening to Tony?"

"Neither, he grinned, "It was just something that came up in barracks once, when a bunch of the guys were talking. One of them had torn the big muscle in his thigh and couldn't run and couldn't understand why he felt so crappy as well as being in pain."

Jen looked at him for a few seconds more and finally nodded as she decided he was telling the truth, and started up the steps to the front door.

"Jen, before we get back upstairs, there's something I want to ask. Fran came home on Thursday, and she hasn't left the apartment since. Would you help me convince her to come out for a walk this afternoon once it's got a bit warmer?"

Jen's suggestion that she make everyone her famous huevos rancheros for breakfast, was voted down by a majority of two to one, in favour of Fran's suggestion that she made fluffy omelettes and toast for them all, while Jen fixed the coffee supply. Consequently the meal was a long leisurely affair accompanied by the banter of friends enjoying each other's company.

Fran and Jen were told by Tim that because he had done the washing up last night (conveniently forgetting Tim's major share in the work) and that he was the man of the house that they could do the washing up. This piece of open provocation was also put to the vote and the result of a further two to one majority saw Fran and Jen sat down with their second or third cups of coffee, while Tim stood over the laden sink.

Fran hadn't needed much persuasion to take a short walk with Tim, so Jen suggested she drive them up to Bacon road, where it was only a few steps across a grassy strip to the beach. Fran was happy with the suggestion and Tim was relieved that if need be, Fran could be picked by Jan and brought back to the apartment.

It was Jen was fishing her keys out of her pocket, she discovered the card that Tony had given to hear, and which she had completely forgotten. With a guilty conscience, she turned to the others and asked them to give her five minutes; she must make a phone call first.

Mac picked up her 'phone on the third ring, "Ma'am," Jennifer said, "I'm so sorry, but we've had a crazy day here, and I've only just thought about this: Dr Cameron wants to talk to you, Harm and Mattie together, and I've just thought that maybe Harm is going back to DC, and he's Mattie's guardian, so any procedures would need his signed consent, and... yes, ma'am... I'm calming down, ma'am... Yes, ma'am, I'm calm now... Yes, ma'am, his number is 619 555 0941. I'm sorry ma'am. Thank you ma'am." She winced and turned to look at Fran and Tim who in turn were looking at her with startled expressions on their faces. "What? Have you never seen anyone make a phone call before?"

It took a few minutes before Jen ushered them downstairs and out into the Escort, and the drive to Bacon road only took a minute or two longer. Jen declined to walk with them. And instead sat at a pavement table outside a cafe and ordered a soda. She hadn't been sat very long when she was approached by Miles Caldwell. "Hello, this is a pleasant surprise!"

"Mr Caldwell, good afternoon, what brings you to our neck of the woods, no, don't tell me, Robert Graham!"

"Yes, young Robert himself, but I'm a little earlier than I thought I'd be. So I thought I'd take a wander along the beach road here to kill a little time." Caldwell said, and then after a pause added "But I'm glad I did."

"I just know I'm going to regret this," said Jen, "but why? Why are you glad?"

"Well because it saves me the trouble of knocking on your door and the possible embarrassment of having you turn me away."

"A fairly accurate assessment of one possibility," Jen admitted in a non-committal voice, "But why would you want to come knocking at my door anyway?"

"To ask if you would go dancing with me."

Jen looked at him with a mixture of laughter and exasperation in her eyes. It was just like him, she thought to come up with one of the most improbable excuses ever.

"Ah, then you would have wasted your time, she replied, I don't dance!"

"And I'm glad of that too!" he said. Then as surprise as well as amusement leapt into her eyes, he laughed and added, "I'm a lousy dancer, you see! May I sit down and talk with you instead?"

"Yes, do!" she responded, "I've been wanting to speak with you. Have you met your nephew yet?"

"Yes, he came to see me yesterday."

"What did you think of him?" she wanted to know.

"Nothing. Should I?"

"Don't be so damn' provoking!" Jen said.

"I wouldn't provoke you for the world. But what do you want me to say? He was with me for less than an hour, and I can't remember a single thing he said that interested me enough to get me _thinking_ about him!"

"You just aren't uncle material!" she told him severely, but the flash of her dimple revealed her fight to control her smile.

"Aren't I?" he thought for a moment, "No, I don't think so. I had three uncles, and none of 'em took the smallest interest in me. And why should they?"

"No reason at all, I guess! Are you trying to snow me, and lead this conversation somewhere else? Yes, you are! Well, that's not going to happen! I also met your nephew yesterday, and nephew or no nephew, I disliked even more than I had expected to!"

"No, did you? Your expectations must have been higher than you led me to believe!"

"No they weren't, but I did expect him to be... to have... Oh, I don't know... something about him to have made Mattie think she'd fallen in love with him, but there was nothing. Can you honestly say that there is something?"

"Well, he's not a bad looking guy, he's expensively, if not particularly well dressed, and I think you're being a little hard on him, he does have a certain amount of confidence, and some women do find that attractive."

"Yes," she said bitterly, "he tried to worm his way into my good books, but I don't trust him; when he smiles, it doesn't reach his eyes, there's only a kind of... judgemental look in them! You must have seen that?"

"Well no, but that might just be because he didn't smile very much when he was with me. Or perhaps because he felt he didn't need to... er... judge me!"

Jen looked at him sharply, "You didn't like him either, did you?"

"No, but then, how many people do you like immediately you meet them?"

She frowned over this, temporarily diverted, "At first sight? I don't know, not that many, perhaps. But you don't normally take a dislike to them either. And I do dislike your nephew!"

"Yes, I thought you did," he said gravely.

"And I don't believe it when he says he loves Mattie, or that he would have made the slightest effort to... to... snare her if he didn't believe she had a large inheritance coming to her!"

"Lord, no!"

She turned her head looking up at him with just the hint of tears in her eyes and said, "If you think that, won't you do anything to help Mattie?"

He was looking at her with the smile, which unlike his nephew's, did reach his eyes, but all he said was, "My dear girl - no don't stiffen up! It was a slip of the tongue! Jennifer Coates, just what do you think I_ could_ do?"

Jen had never actually considered this, and she was lost for an answer, and could only offer a lame "You must be able to do something!"

"What makes you think that?"

"Well you are his uncle!"

"That's no reason! You've just told me that I'm not uncle material; and if that means someone who doesn't meddle in the affairs of a nephew over whom he has no authority, and for all I care might be any other man's nephew you are dead right!"

"Maybe no authority! But it doesn't matter what you say, there is a relationship and you must have some influence at least!"

He looked at her with some amusement, "You know you have some really crazy ideas in your head. How can I have any influence over any man I only met for the first time yesterday!"

Jen was forced to inwardly acknowledge the truth of his argument, but she was convinced that he could get rid of Stacy if he chose to. It was irrational she knew and she could only account for her belief by a strength she had seen in his face, and by what she felt was a certain ruthlessness hidden under his flippant ways. She sighed, "I guess you can't have any, but I think you could if you wanted to."

"I think, he said, that you are quite capable of seeing him off by yourself, without any help from me!"

There seemed to be nothing more to say on the subject, and the chance to do so was taken away by the return of Tim and Fran, and the necessary introductions that had to be made.

Tim apologised for tearing Jen away, but excused himself on the grounds that Fran had perhaps overdone the exercise, and he wanted to get her back indoors. Caldwell accepted the excuse with a brief smile and a careless wave of his hand, expressing the hope that he would see them again shortly, but his eyes were fixed on Jen for the duration of his goodbyes.

"So, that's Stacy's uncle." murmured Fran with a wicked smile, "Does he like opera?"

Tim turned to his fiancée and said "What?"

Jen was able to reply truthfully that she didn't think that Miles Caldwell was a music lover, but was painfully aware of the heat in her cheeks.

The Rabb family Lexus eased down the La Jolla Parkway and on to the I-5 south towards San Diego. Harm was at the wheel with Mac beside him and Mattie in back. After a few miles, Harm blew out his cheeks and said, "That went well!"

Mattie looked up to try and catch his eye in the rear view mirror, "You think?" she asked with heavy irony

"Oh it wasn't that bad Mattie." Mac objected, "Trish and Frank love us all. Harm was still with you in Blacksburg when I came out here and had to introduce myself to her because Harm had never, in all the years we'd worked together, told her anything about me. Can you imagine how I felt when I walked up to her and said like some Marine Barbie, 'Hi, I'm Sarah MacKenzie, Mac to my friends.' And Trish said, 'Who?' And can you imagine how she must have felt when I said, 'Sarah, you know, Harm's fiancée?'" She looked across at Harm whose ears Mattie could see were glowing crimson. "That," Mac added, "was almost the shortest engagement on record. And, he hadn't even told them about you, or your accident, or anything. So I had to explain why he was still back east, and why I had to fly back to get married, and why it was all such short notice. And do you know what she did, she hugged and kissed me and called me a poor thing, and," she ended triumphantly, "Trish blamed it all on Harm! And can you really say anything other than when you finally got here that she and Frank welcomed you with anything but open arms and open hearts?"

"No," Mattie agreed, "I know Trish loves us all to bits, and I love her and Frank too. You know it really cracks me up. Frank calls me his favourite granddaughter, but I'm not really related to Harm, and Harm's not really related to Frank; it's kinda goofy, but I love it! But when she's mad at either of you, or like today both of you, then it's pretty weird; Frank and me were sitting out by the pool and we could hear clear as daylight!"

"Oh Mattie, Trish only went ballistic at fly-boy here for oh, maybe only a half an hour, because he never calls, and then gave me the third degree for only just over an hour and twenty minutes, and she only went on at me for so long because we hadn't told her about the endometriosis and she was worried. Anyway once she calmed down she was fine, even when you beat her at Scrabble! Lunch was fine, if a little too spicy, and I made it to the bathroom in time not hurl all over the lobby, Frank got to spoil you rotten. And it was hugs and kisses all round when we left!"

As the miles back to San Diego unfolded, Mac asked Harm what they were going to do about Doctor Cameron's proposition regarding Mattie's back and legs.

"I've already given my vote! I'm in!" Mattie said enthusiastically.

"Mattie, I'm not so sure," Harm replied, "It's another procedure, another stay in hospital, haven't you had enough of that?"

"Harm," Mac said, "It can't hurt to talk to the man, and find out what the options are, what the risks are."

"And anyway, I'll be eighteen in a couple of months, so if you won't sign the stupid consent forms, I'll do it myself on my birthday!"

Mac and Harm exchanged glances and Mac mouthed silently 'insurance', Harm turned his attention back to the road, but Mac was certain that he had understood her meaning. Harm had understood her, and after a few moments thought while he considered his options, he indicated and slowed for a right turn off the highway. "What...?" began Mac.

"I'm pulling over, I think I need to make a phone call; you're right, I was forgetting that aspect of the case. Have you got that number Jen gave you. It's a bit of a long shot on a Sunday afternoon, but time is not on our side. Thank you."

Dialling the number Mac read out to him he waited for the phone at the other end to be picked up.

"Tony Cameron." The voice seemed younger than he had expected.

"Doctor Tony Cameron?" he asked with just the slightest emphasis on the title.

"Yes."

"Doctor Cameron, this is Harmon Rabb, Mattie Grace's guardian. I know it's very short notice, but as time is running out and I have to be on a flight back to DC tonight, I wondered whether we could possibly meet with you this evening?"

Of course, I've been waiting for your call. Why don't you come over to our place, we don't just need to talk, there are things perhaps that I need to show you, and as all my books are here, it would be better that way? Will Mattie be with you? It would be for the best if she was; she is the patient. Do you know how to find us? Of course you do. We're in the same building as Jen Coates, apartment four. When can we expect you?"

"Would half an hour be too soon? Again I apologise for the rush, but I am on a deadline!"

"No, half an hour is fine. I'll put a fresh brew of coffee on."

Harm turned in his seat to look at Mattie, whose face had lit up. "Don't go getting your hopes up too high, Mattie. This is only a first step; if he's talking about cutting into your spine, it could be very dangerous." His voice became deadly serious, "I need you to consider this very carefully Mattie, you could end up in a wheelchair for the rest of your life. I'm not trying to scare you, I just want you to know what we might be getting into, here."

Mattie nodded slowly.

Mac looked lovingly at the man she had married, not 'what you might be getting into' but what 'we might be getting into' he'd said. And he was right, no matter what decision was made, no matter what the outcome might be, the Rabbs, the MacKenzies and the Graces were in this for the long haul, and together, as a family.

Jen having driven Tim and Fran back to Cape May Avenue was sorely tempted to pay a visit to the Graham's, just to see how Robert was getting on she told herself. Then she sighed, she wasn't being honest with herself; her sudden fancy to visit the house on Long Branch Avenue had nothing to do with a young man recovering from a tropical infection, but everything to do with an older man with a cynical but amusing outlook on life. Sighing again, she followed her friends into the building and up in the elevator to the apartment.

Harm parked the Lexus a few yards down the street and the three occupants climbed out of the vehicle and made their way towards the apartment block. The door was opened at their knock by Sally, who smiled and said, "Hello Mattie. You must be Mr and... do I call you Mrs, or Colonel Rabb?"

"Harm and Mac, please," returned Harm.

"And I'm Sally, Tony's just finishing off some artwork for you, come on in and sit down. Can I get you a coffee?"

Harm shot a quick glance at Mac and seeing her slight frown, said, "No, no thank you, Mac's a bit queasy after the drive."

"Of course! It can be such a drag, can't it?" Sally exclaimed. "Mattie told us, congratulations Mac!" And then she added in a stage whisper, "Welcome to the club!"

"Oh, are you...?"

"Yes, in about six months time! You?"

"About a month behind you."

By this time they had joined Tony at the dining table which had been pressed into service as both conference table and lectern. Tony said, "I know you're pressed for time, so I'll be as brief as I can. Mattie's condition isn't really compatible with a neck injury. If that injury had been permanent, then her original paralysis would have persisted. Since she can move her arms, and seems to have regained most if not all of her former strength, then I would suggest that the neck injury has healed. I understand she was pretty badly banged up all over when the accident happened, and I suspect she has what we call a stenosis lower down in her back. A stenosis is an outgrowth of bone on one of the vertebrae, which presses on to the spinal cord and affects the nerves which control the legs, sometimes it happens spontaneously, but when that's the case there are early symptoms, like tingling in the feet and aches in the legs. That's not what happened in Mattie's case is it?"

"No," Mattie said, "One second I was fine and the next thing I knew I was in hospital." She paused, her forehead creased in concentration, "You know, I can't remember the crash. I was flying and then I was in hospital."

Mac and Harm looked at each other; Mattie was normally extremely reluctant to discuss the events of that day. It was difficult looking at her, and seeing how much progress she'd made since those black early days, to remember that the accident was only slightly more than a year ago.

Tony felt that there was something, he didn't know what, happening between his three guests, so he paused to let them get through it.

At last Harm, "Is there more?"

"Yes, as we know, Mattie was pretty badly banged up, and I suspect that she may have injured one of her vertebrae," he pushed forward the drawing on which he been working when they arrived, and using his pencil as a pointer, he explained what they were looking at. "Maybe she fractured a vertebra, and dislodged a chip, and then as the fracture healed and the chip re-united and became rigid it pressed on the spinal cord. However," and he held up a warning hand, "this is only a possibility, a strong possibility, but still... I would need an MRI scan to be sure of what we are looking at here. But if I'm right, and depending on where the bone growth is then the operation to fix it is a simple one, I would just take a pair of bone nibblers and cut back the extrusion, slip a couple of stitches in and then we could all go home. But as I say, we need that MRI scan first."

"If what you say is true, said Mac, how is it that no-one has spotted this before?"

"Well, Mattie was treated in a small county hospital back in Virginia, right? They probably didn't have the most up to date diagnostic equipment. When Mattie arrived here, the diagnosis was set, and I assume images from the original scans were included in her documents, and any follow up scans would have concentrated on her neck, because that's where the original trauma was diagnosed, and because her symptoms, the arm and upper body paralysis indicted a neck trauma. I believe that since her original release from hospital, her treatment has consisted of physical therapy, and as she seemed to be responding well to the therapy, everyone was happy with her progress, and no-one looked for any further underlying cause. Hillcrest, however, is a teaching hospital, and we have some of the most modern diagnostic equipment, and some of the most inquiring medical minds on the West Coast, and if there is any stenosis then I am confident we'll find it!"

"And if there isn't?" asked Harm.

"Then we'll have to think again and take a second look at other possibilities, but I'd say that there is better than an eighty per cent chance that I'm right."

"How would we stand on the issue of costs?" Mac asked, "It's my navy dependents' insurance that covers the cost of Mattie's healthcare at the MedCen, and I'm not sure that they'll approve treatment at a civilian facility. We probably could cover the costs of the MRI scan, but I'm concerned at the possible costs of any surgery. Even more so now, with Mattie's eighteenth birthday coming up very soon; after her birthday my insurance won't cover her any more, and you know as well as I do that no insurance company will cover her for a pre-existing condition."

"Well, I think I can talk our chief of diagnostics into a _pro bono_ scan, and the Navy Medical Centre granted me privileges before, when they needed my help, maybe they'll do the same again if it is needed. But, let's get the MRI done first. One step at a time; what do you say?"

Mac and Harm looked at each gravely; an operation would be so close to the spinal cord that any error could be disastrous. But Mattie was looking at them both with desperate hope in her eyes, and Harm suddenly realised that no matter how accepting Mattie may have appeared to be, she wanted above all things to return to her former life and achieve the hopes and dreams that had been so precious to her. He looked again at Mac, who read the decision in his eyes and nodded her agreement, and then reaching out his hand to the strong-willed, fiery and independent girl who had come to trust him and who meant so much to him, he gently ruffled her hair and said. "What do _you_ say, boss? You just heard what the doctor said, and if he's right, it's your body he'll be cutting into."

Mattie looked again at them both and then at Tony, "Damn straight!" She said, "Let's get this sucker. Let's just do it!"

Tony looked at all three in turn and said, "That's what a surgeon likes to hear - a confident patient! Now, there's just one more thing. I understand that you're the legal guardian, and you've told me that you're on the point of leaving for DC?" Harm nodded. "Right I've downloaded this from the Hillcrest website, I just need your signature here, and we can start on getting the scan organised. You'll see that you are only authorising the scan for the moment. We'll need further consent forms signed if we need to undertake any procedures, so nothing more than the scan can be done until I get further signed consent. Now, here's my card, one for each of you, all my contact numbers are there as well as my e-address so you can reach me if you need to; I've got both your cell 'phone numbers, so I can tell you where and when we're good to go!"

He and Sally both came to the door to watch their visitors depart, and Tony sliding an arm around her waist gave her a gentle squeeze and said rather wistfully, "I hope we're that lucky." Sally gave him a quizzical look. "We have just witnessed an extraordinary thing there Sal. I've known families argue for hours over the simplest procedures, and storm out of the hospital leaving the patient still waiting for a decision. Legally speaking those three aren't a family. Mattie is Harm's ward, not his adopted daughter; Mac has no real legal connection to her at all. They've only been together for just over a year, yet they sat at our table and almost without a word they reached a unanimous decision in only a couple of minutes. That is an extraordinary family - no matter how the law may define them!"

Sally stretched up to kiss him on the cheek, "Sometimes, I forget why I love you," she said, "and then you go and say something like that!"

Later, as Sally was on the verge of sleep, a thought drifted through her mind, "that poor girl's in love with her boss's husband and he has eyes only for his wife," she murmured, unaware that she was speaking.

"Wha'?" mumbled a no more than half-awake Tony. But Sally was already asleep

Jen sat in front of the mirror that propped on the top of her makeshift dressing table and leant perilously against her bedroom wall. She was freshly showered and clad in her favourite pyjamas. They had once been a rich, almost sapphire blue, but many washings had turned them a faded indeterminate shade of blue-gray. Her hair dryer was in one hand and hair brush in the other as she pulled it through her hair with long, slow strokes. Brushing her hair was something she had done so often she could almost do it in her sleep, which this evening was just as well, as she lazily ran through her latest encounter with that infuriating man. Yet, he hadn't been so infuriating today; it had been as if he had something on his mind, or he had lost some of his taste for banter. True the subject of his damn' nephew wasn't a very entertaining one. But the smile had still been there, and it had been fun to tease him... well just a little bit, and she thought, but was not certain that there had been a peculiar look in his eyes. She smiled to herself, 'to ask if you would go dancing with me,' what a strange, rather old-fashioned way of asking someone out on a… a date! Her brush hand stopped moving as the thought struck her. Had he really asked her out on a date? All of a sudden it certainly seemed so, but it hadn't at the time! Woah there, Miles Caldwell! Her hand resumed its motion, as she attempted to analyse her feeling towards him. Yes, she liked him, but for his sense of humour, otherwise he was selfish, self absorbed, self-centred, nevertheless she enjoyed his company, but as a romantic partner? No, I'm sorry Mr Caldwell, that's just not going to happen! She winced as the brush caught a snag in her hair, but she wished she could persuade him to somehow run that Stacy out of town - and before he had a chance to persuade Mattie to go with him!

Mattie was very quiet on the way home to Pacific Avenue, something that neither Harm or Mac failed to notice, and on reaching home, Mac sat with her in the lounge, and picking up a magazine, left her to think through whatever was bothering her. Harm joined them some fifteen minutes later, carrying a tray with a plate of sandwiches and three mugs of hot drinks. "Tea for madame," he emphasised the French pronunciation, and with a wink he added "and a real drink for Mattie and me."

As they ate and drank, Mac looked across at Mattie and reconsidering her earlier decision to leave her alone with her thoughts, finally said, "Something wrong, Mattie? are you scared?"

"Yeah, a little I guess."

"You seemed OK at Tony and Sally's, and he did say it would only be a minor procedure."

"I'm not afraid of the surgery Mac, Harm, but what if they can't find anything to fix? she said as tears started in her eyes, "No! Don't!" she commanded as Harm went to comfort her, "You'll only make things worse. And now I'm going to bed, in case I make myself look like a bigger damn' fool than I already have! Oh... I nearly forgot, you're going back to DC tonight! Have a safe trip, Harm and call when you get there. I love you, good night!"

"Whew, it's certainly been a day of days!" Harm remarked after he and Mac had watched Mattie prop herself out of the lounge.

"Is that all you've got to say?" demanded Mac, on the verge of annoyance.

"No, but if I said what I was really feeling right now, I'd probably make as big a damn' fool of myself as Mattie thinks she's done. Mac, I am so proud of her, and I've tried not to say it out loud, even to myself, but I love her so much too."

"I know you do, you dumb jet-jockey," Mac agreed as she wriggled into the circle of his arm, "And Mattie knows it too. We've just been waiting for you to admit to yourself!"

"Oh, I've known it since as far back as I met her, I was just trying to hide it from you two!"

"You didn't do a very good job of it!" Mac smiled and cupping his chin with her hand she turned his head towards and kissed him gently.

"Do you want to go upstairs? We've got time," he asked softly.

"No, let's just sit here and be with each other."

They did just that, sitting in silence, each in the comfort of the other's presence, until Mac sighed and said quietly, "It's time, Harm."

"I know," he replied just as quietly. He stood and moved towards the hall to collect his go-bag from where it had been pushed to one side after he had dropped it during Friday night's urgency. "Are you going to drive, or do I need to get a cab?" He asked.

"I am not going to trust my husband to some stranger." she said, totally ignoring the fact that once he was in the air he would be in the hands of a different stranger.

The drive to the airport was quiet. Mac couldn't speak, and Harm respected her silence. To his surprise she stopped at the drop-off zone outside the departures building and in answer to his asking if she was not coming in to see him off, replied with a fair degree of composure, "No, I'm not coming in. I didn't mind people seeing me cry with happiness on Friday, but I'll be damned if I let them see me cry when you leave. Go on, get out of here sailor!"

Slightly puzzled, but reluctantly respecting her wishes, he climbed out of the Mustang, and walking around to the driver's side, he bent and kissed her once, a soft, loving kiss. "I'll be back in two weeks tops! I promise. I've already written my resignation letter, and it'll be in the post the same day I catch the plane back to San Diego. And, I promise I'll call you every day while I'm gone."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," she warned him.

"I never do he said," and smiled his goodbye at her as she slipped the clutch and pulled away from the kerbside.

Mac kept a lid on her feelings as she drove home, she couldn't risk driving with tear-blurred vision, but as soon as she closed the front door behind her, she felt herself giving in to her emotions. Mattie's quiet, "Mac?" gave her the excuse she needed to bite back the tears, and looking up she saw the teenager gazing back at her with troubled eyes, she opened her arms and Mattie moved into hug her. "Let's just go and sit a while shall we?" suggested Mac.


	16. 15 October 2007

**Monday 15 October 2007**

Jen had set her alarm clock for half an hour earlier than normal in order to get a jump on the day, particularly the increased security on base, but decided the heavy dull feeling had nothing to do with the early alarm call, but had more to do with the fact that she seemed to have had a restless night. She had searched her conscience while running, but the only sin of either commission or omission was her late call to Mac about the possible review of Mattie's medical issues.

Leaving a note for Fran that if she needed anything then she was to call, but not to expect Jen to come racing home unless it was an emergency (underlined twice with three exclamation marks), she climbed into her car and deciding to go north around this morning she made for Voltaire Street for the Pacific Highway then Harbor drive and South 32nd Street. Her intuition had been correct, there were still extra armed Marines at the gate complete with search mirrors and dogs, but her early start had paid dividends, there was only one other car in front her and she was waved on through to the inspection area where Corporal Clone One, or was it Three? wondered Jen checked her ID and examined the trunk of the old Escort.

A cursory glance around the parking lot showed that Jen had indeed beaten the rush and had a wide choice of prime parking spots right in front of the JAG building. And as she had expected neither Mac's Mustang nor the Rabb family Lexus were in sight. Holding her ID ready for the extra security in the lobby, she almost ran up the steps, smiling a good morning to the armed Security Detail Marine, the same on as the other morning, she noted. Holding up her ID card she failed in her attempt to turn off her smile, so that she bore more resemblance to her official photograph, and unknowingly acquired another secret admirer.

Plenty of time for coffee, today she thought, although this early she would probably be the first to make a brew, so stowing cover and purse in her desk drawer she booted her computer and made her way through the still deserted bull-pen to the galley. She wasn't, however the first to arrive, the petite red-haired Lieutenant Walker was straining to reach something from the top shelf of the store cupboard, and in doing so was in grave danger of separating her blouse from her skirt's waistband. Jen stepped forward, "Can I help you with that ma'am?"

"Why, thank you, thank you so much. That's right kind of y'all, Petty Officer."

"My pleasure, ma'am." Jen said measuring the coffee grounds into the paper filter, "Ma'am, if you don't mind my saying," Jen nodded to the Lieutenant's waistband, "you're in danger of being out of uniform."

Lieutenant Walker looked down at her disarray, smiled her gratitude and attempted to restore order to her uniform, but realising she couldn't straighten and re-align her blouse with her belt still fastened, she asked, "Was the bull-pen still empty when you came through Petty Officer?"

"Yes ma'am"

The pretty red-head then swiftly unbuckled her belt, unzipped the waist band of her skirt, and re-ordered her uniform, but not before Jen had seen a massive bruise on her lower ribs. Jen couldn't help but gasp, and the Lieutenant looked at her quizzically, "Something wrong Petty Officer? Y'all surely must have seen more in barracks, if not in the locker room?"

"No ma'am, I mean yes, ma'am, it wasn't the bare flesh ma'am it was the bruised flesh!"

"Oh, that's nothing to worry about. It's just from MMA."

"MMA ma'am?"

"Yes, Mixed Martial Arts. When my family figured I'd done all the growing I was going to, my uncle in the Rangers figured that I'd need some kind of advantage to help me out if I got into any upscuddles with bigger kids, so he taught me a trick or two, and as I got older, I kept up with the training and finally got involved in MMA, not just to keep on track, but to help me keep fit. Y'all should give it a try sometime!"

"No thank you ma'am, I bruise too easily - and those bruises look painful! Did you just say you had an uncle in the Army ma'am, what made you choose the Navy?"

"What made you think I had an army uncle?" The Lieutenant queried.

"But you just said you had a Ranger uncle."

Lieutenant Walker's amusement found expression in what was nothing other than a stifled giggle. "Petty officer, where're y'all from?"

"Maryland, ma'am." answered a now-puzzled Jen.

"Oh, I'm so sorry for you, y'all're practically a Yankee. But it explains your ignorance of Texas ways. Petty Officer, when a Texican says 'Ranger' without any qualifiers, they usually mean Texas Ranger! Is that coffee ready? Would y'all be so kind as to pour me a cup? Thank you, thank you so much."

Jen was beginning to like the small Texan officer, she obviously viewed the world in a humorous light and was refreshingly ready to laugh at herself, Jen had recognised the 'thank you, thank you so much' from one of Fran's favourite TV programmes, and the exaggerated Texas accent and the 'y'alls' seemed to come and go at whim, and Jen was sure that the Lieutenant had just been about to say 'Damnyankee'.

Still smiling she placed her coffee mug on her desk and turning to the computer monitor. She opened her e-mail folder and her eye was immediately drawn to a message from JAG HQ DC, "CASREP". Clicking on the message to read it, her smile faded, she felt herself grow pale, and unbidden tears rose to her eyes. Sending the message to the printer, she was thankful that there were still only one or two of the bull-pen's normal complement yet present. Taking one of the two copies she had printed she crossed to the update board and thumb-tacked the new message in place. As she turned away from the board she almost collided with Lieutenant Graves, "Hey steady, Coates, you almost knocked me… What is it Petty Officer, what's wrong?"

Jen could only gesture in the direction of the update board, and as she turned away she saw the blonde officer scan the update and cross herself and heard her mutter, "Dear God!"

Jen was only half-way across the bullpen, when she made a desperate grab for a waste bin and was only just successful before she was violently sick. Angrily waving away those who either came to help her or just stand and stare, Jen turned in the direction of the women's room to empty and clean the container, and where she could also repair the damage to her face.

Finished in the women's room she returned to her desk and picked up the phone, dialed the now-familiar number and waited for the pick up:

"JAG HQ, Sergeant Brewer Sir"

"Alison, it's Jen Coates, San Diego. Alison tell me that it's a mistake, that it's not true, the Casrep is wrong."

"I'm sorry, Jen. The report is accurate. The SeaBees have worked round the clock since the day of the attack, they found the last of the missing at about oh-four-thirty hours local, this morning.

"But so many of the wounded died."

"Jen, there's no easy way to tell you this, most of the wounded were very badly burned. The doctors said that there wasn't much they could for them, and mostly they died of shock. "

"Thank you, Alison."

Alison's news had nothing to settle Jen; she left her coffee untouched to go cold as she worked through the rest of the e-mail in a daze, and she barely responded to Duke Wayne when he brought her Mac's share of the morning mail.

Mac reached the office, finally, she thought, at oh-eight-forty-seven-minutes, no improvement since Friday. She hated being late, but with taking Mattie to school and the increased security on-base, she'd been lucky to get here this early. She was beginning to realise just what Coates had achieved the previous week when Mattie had been staying at Cape May Avenue. She acknowledged the 'attention on deck!' that marked her first appearance of the day as she weaved her way across the bull-pen to her own office. Coates stood as she entered, again a normal first time of day reaction, but, she looked more closely, Coates seemed as grey as she had felt when she had been nauseous earlier in the day. "Are you all right, Petty Officer?" she asked.

Coates met her eyes and wordlessly handed her a slip of paper. Mac looked down at it, and as she read the contents, and struggled to take in the facts, names and figures; her own face became still and set. She looked again at her Yeoman, and said, "Yes, I see." And reaching a decision, she said, "Please see that I'm not disturbed for ten minutes," and went into her own office. Taking her seat behind her desk, she picked up her 'phone and buzzed her Yeoman, "Coates, get me General Cresswell, please" and waited impatiently for the connection to be made.

"Good morning, Sir, MacKenzie here."

"What can I do for you, Colonel?"

"Sir, we've received the latest casrep, and now that all the missing are accounted for, I intend to tell my people as much as I can. But that's not very much, and I wondered if you might have any intel that can be passed on?"

"We still know very little about the who or the why, but we do know a little more about the how. A semi-trailer was stolen from a Pittsburgh trucking company four days before the attack. It was fitted with a home-made launch rail, together with remotely operated aiming and launch systems. It was driven to the corner of East Broad and Berry, swung round until the rear of the trailer was pointed at the building and then they launched the missile."

"That's about, what, a quarter of mile, General?"

"Three hundred eighty yards, Colonel."

"That's pretty sophisticated stuff, sir. There was no prior intel?"

"No, our friends at Langley say there was no extra chatter during the run up. There's some speculation that it was a revenge attack, security analysts pointed out that it was an expensive method just to attack a single random building."

"Revenge, sir?"

"Well yes, there was your old friend Sadiq Fahd, and the two Atef brothers. JAG figured prominently in bringing down all three, but the intel agencies are still keeping their options open."

"Any clues from weapon debris, sir?"

"Yes, the missile seems to have been about fifteen feet long, with a warhead of about five hundred pounds, with a contact firing pistol and propelled by a liquid fuel engine. When the missile hit, the explosion ignited the unburned fuel. From debris collected, it looks like the missile was a heavily modified SAM 2."

"And nothing from the intelligence community? Whoever rigged this must have a workshop, a test firing range, something…"

"Do you have any idea just how many amateur rocket enthusiasts are out there Colonel? Thousands. The FBI and Homeland Security are checking what they can; they're still looking, Colonel, and if I have anything to do with it they will not stop until I have the son of a bitch responsible either on ice or behind bars!"

"Sir!"

"Is there anything else I can do for you Colonel?"

"No, sir, you've given me more than I need, thank you sir!"

"Goodbye then, Colonel."

Mac replaced the receiver in its cradle. The irony of the situation hadn't escaped her. If the motive behind the attack had been revenge for either Fahd or the Atef brothers, then two of the major players involved in their deaths and the failure of their plans had been Harm and herself. At the time of the attack there had nobody at Falls Church who had been involved in either case. She sighed; there was still work to be done. She reached out and pressed the button on the inter-phone, "Coates, have Lieutenant Si… er, Graves come and see me ASAP."

"Yes, ma'am"

A few minutes wait brought the Public Affairs officer standing at attention in front of her desk, "Lieutenant Graves reporting as ordered, ma'am."

"At ease, Lieutenant. I know this isn't your usual line of work, but in the absence of an Administrative Officer, I am going to be totally arbitrary and dump it on you. I want a full muster formation at fourteen hundred hours today, on the hard-standing outside. Everyone, and I mean everyone is to attend, less for one reliable enlisted, Petty Officer, Seaman, Corporal or PFC, I don't care, who is to operate the telephones and take any messages. Oh, except Coates, I shall need her. Any questions?"

"No ma'am, full muster formation, at fourteen-hundred, less one hand to answer the phones, ma'am!"

"Thank you Lieutenant, dismiss!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am!"

Hot on the heels of Graves' departure, Coates rapped on the doorjamb, and entering the office said, "Ma'am, Lieutenant Simms is here, she says…"

Mac's shoulders slumped; she had forgotten that she had ordered her late Administration Officer to report this morning. "Alright, Petty Officer, send her in."

Jen turned to the tall officer and said, "If you please ma'am."

The look she got in return could only be described as venomous as Simms marched into Mac's office and halted, echoing Graves' words of a few minutes earlier.

Mac, however, this time did not allow the officer in front of her to stand at ease. "Lieutenant Simms," she began, "I am extremely dissatisfied with your recent conduct. Not only as involved with your public verbal assault and personal insult to a senior Petty Officer in your chain of command, but also with the manner in which you saw fit to respond to a formal letter from your Commanding Officer. It may not contravene any article of the UCMJ, but a telephone message passed through a third party on such a matter, no matter how it is phrased, is insulting to its recipient and is to the discredit of the originator. I was strongly tempted to convene an article 32 hearing to investigate your conduct and to find if there were any grounds for formal charges being brought against you, but on reflection I have decided not to do so.

"Not that I feel you deserve any extra consideration but as you have indicated a desire to resign your commission, I feel it would be best if this whole matter were to be left to sink ignominiously to the depths. If you have your letter of resignation to hand, I will accept it now. Thank you. I will pass this through channels, and you will receive official notice of its acceptance shortly. There is just one other matter, and I don't speak as your Commanding Officer now; I understand from Commander Coleman that when she visited you in your quarters, she found you 'unwell'. I understand the euphemism, Lieutenant; I have only this to say: that whatever problems you have, you won't find the solution at the bottom of a bottle."

"Will there be anything else, ma'am?"

"No Lieutenant, nothing else, dismissed!"

"Aye, aye ma'am."

Mac watched her leave. Damn! A career finished because the officer lacked self-control! Mac knew that if Simms had not offered her resignation then she would have faced an article 32 on a charge of Conduct Unbecoming, at least, and probably more. Mac felt a responsibility to all the women in the services who had made a successful career in the face of opposition from die-hards who resented the growing participation of women in the military. She wasn't about to let screw-ups like Simms jeopardize everything that she and they had worked for!

She gave herself a mental shake, and yelled "Coates!"

Coates appeared as if by magic. Mac handed her Simms' resignation letter and said, "Get that processed ASAP! and bring me what we've got for this morning. Oh, and Coates?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"Jennifer, I need another favour. I'm having difficulty getting into work on time, partly because I have to drop Mattie off at school, and that's causing me to hit the security tailback, which is what costs me the most time. I'm going to need to put in a couple of late nights this week, and with losing more time this afternoon, today had better be one of them, can I ask you to pick Mattie up from school until I can pick her up, I'll try not to be too late."

"Yes, ma'am, I'm always happy to see Mattie, I'll pick her up for you. And ma'am, if it gets too late, or you let the time get away from you, we can rig the couch, and Mattie can stay over. I've got a spare new toothbrush she can use, and between us Petty Officer Neumann and I can square away anything else she might need." Jen paused for a second, "Ma'am, I know this is a lousy day, for us all, I mean. But there is one little speck of good news."

"Go, on."

"Ma'am, Petty Officer Neumann and her Marine, have gotten engaged and they told us on Saturday that they've set the date for the wedding. They'll be getting married on Christmas Eve. That way Sergeant Martinez says, he'll never forget their anniversary."

Mac smiled, "That is cheerful news, Coates, thank you. I'll have to congratulate Neumann the next time I see her. Alright Coates, you can bring on the work. Thank you."

For both Mac and Coates the remainder of the morning passed in a flurry of files to be read, letters and reports to be drafted, typed and despatched, until at last twelve-thirty arrived. Mac, out of consideration for the tender state of her stomach decided against lunch while Jen had brown-bagged it, and took a walk to sit in solitude on the low wall that marked the JAG building's boundary.

Fourteen hundred hours saw the entire staff of JAG JSLT in formation on the roadway at the front of the building, USMC on the right, Navy on the left. Jen stood two paces behind and one pace to the left of Mac, as she called the formation to attention. She passed a slim blue folder to Mac, who held it unopened, as she began to speak.

"I have ordered this formation so that I can speak with you all at the same time," she began. "As you all know, the JAG HQ at Falls Church was attacked last week, and casualties were taken. The weapon used was a modified surface to air missile which caused extensive damage as well as setting fire to the building. Over the weekend, rescue and recovery operations were continued by elements of Construction Battalions based in and around the DC area. All the missing have now been accounted for. It is with great sorrow that I have to tell you that in addition to those killed in the attack several of those who were injured have now also died of their wounds. I have here a list of the names of those killed, or who died of wounds, or remain on the wounded list." She cleared her throat, "Killed in action: Captain Nelson J Wyatt, United States Marine Corps, Lieutenant Catherine E Morrison, United States Marine Corps, Lieutenant Frances A Staunton, United States Marine Corps, Commander Thomas M A Sturgess, United States Navy, Lieutenant Commander…"

Mac continued reading the names, in a flat, tightly controlled emotionless voice. Jen, her own eyes stinging saw that more than a few of the faces in front of her were marked with tear stains as Mac's voice relentlessly called the roll of the dead and wounded.

Mac finally came to the end of the awful roll call, and closing the folder she handed it back to Jen. "We will now have a minute of silent prayer, out of respect for our comrades." She bowed her head and as she did, the rest of the formation followed suit; precisely one minute later Mac called the formation back to attention, and holding them there for a few seconds, called "Dismissed!"

Mac, with Jennifer following, made her silent way back to her office, and saying to Jen, "Please make sure, that I'm not disturbed for the next twenty minutes," closed her office door behind her. Jen had a fair idea of what was happening behind that closed door looked at it with troubled eyes, and then sighing, went back to work.

So much had piled up due to the morning's distractions that the next hour almost flew by as Jen desperately tried to clear her desk before handing it over to Yates so that she could collect Mattie from school. She succeeded with bare minutes to spare, and thanked the instinct that had prompted her to give him a thorough briefing the last time he had taken up the slack on her behalf. Rapping on Mac's doorjamb she waited for denial, and opening the door she saw that Mac had swiveled her chair around and was sat with her back to the door and apparently staring out of her window.

"Ma'am, just to let you know that I have handed my desk over to Yates, and I'm about to leave to collect Mattie from school."

"Thank you Coates." Mac's voice had a muffled sound that Jen remembered uneasily from the previous weekend when she had been forced to goad Mac into admitting that all was not well with her. In her anxiety, she took a step forward and said, "Ma'am, is everything all right?"

"I said thank you, Petty Officer. You may leave now."

Jen debated whether to stay and force the issue, but with an anxious mind, decided to leave well enough alone until tomorrow. It was she hoped only a passing sadness at having to acknowledge the loss of people she knew. If that was the case, she wasn't alone; Jen had seen and felt the subdued atmosphere in the bull-pen since the formation had been dismissed and had noticed that more than one face had a freshly-scrubbed appearance as those that had been affected had washed away the evidence of their tears.

She was still in a sombre frame of mind as she pulled up outside Mattie's school. Mattie who had been watching for either the Mustang or the Lexus was blissfully unaware of the presence of the Escort, until Jen growing bored with waiting to be seen, tapped twice on the car's horn. Mattie looked over and saw Jen, and a little surprised, stumped across the lot to the car. "Hi Jen, something up?"

"No, just that Mac's tied up at the office, and she's going to be working late, so I said that I'd let you baby-sit me until she was ready. So, get in and start earning your keep."

Mattie grinned and eased he way into the passenger seat, but said, "Did you have anything particular in mind Jen? Only Linda Graham and me have been working on a brain-teaser thingy for Robert, and I was going to ask Mac to drop me off there for an hour or so. She asked Mrs Graham when she got picked up about ten minutes ago, and she was cool about it."

Jen blinked as she sorted through the maze of pronouns, but decided that she had caught the gist of it, and agreed, saying that she just need to get home first and change out of her uniform.

"Oh Mrs Graham won't mind, she knows what you do, and she's seen you in uniform loads of times! Besides if you take too long Robert might have solved the puzzle before we get there!"

Jen allowed herself to be persuaded, and she acknowledged she could do with some light-hearted company after today. She was only now beginning to realise how badly shaken she had been by the final casualty list. "OK, then Mattie Long Branch it is!"

However happy Robert might have been to see Mattie, Jen was decidedly unhappily surprised to see that Stacy Caldwell has also come to visit to the convalescent. But she was undoubtedly pleased, despite her previous night's reservations, to see his uncle, a feeling she betrayed by the smile which lit her eyes.

Almost immediately she found herself drawn into a heated discussion. Robert had returned earlier from a check-up at his doctor's, who had supported him in his wish to start taking a little more gentle exercise, saying it would do him more good than just lounging about the house all day and suggested that he could be driven out to, say, Presidio Park, and there take a gentle walk. Robert instantly objected to this programme and had said, quite forcefully, that he be damned if he'd be driven to Presidio Park or anywhere as if he was on his last legs, and that he'd rather hire a bicycle and take a ride along the Ocean Beach Bike Path! The doctor had laughed and said, "Fair enough, then, go for your bike ride, it won't do you any harm provided it's not too far and not too fast.

Mrs Graham was distinctly unhappy with the plan, Robert was far from fit enough for such dumb schemes, and although she was pleased with recovery so far, she was unable to forget how very ill he had looked when he had first returned home. There were she said absolutely no chances of her allowing Robert to cycle out on his own. Linda's offer to go with him and make sure he didn't try to do too much, she rejected out of hand, she had no faith in Linda's ability to control her own speed let alone that of her brother.

Mrs Graham's position was not helped by the arrival of Stacy Caldwell, who when told of the argument suggested that he accompany them and promised that he would make sure that Robert didn't overdo the exercise and that he make sure that got back in good time. He didn't seem to realise that these two promises might turn out to be contradictory.

Linda had seen nothing wrong in Stacy's plan and had lost no time in telling Mattie all about it when she and Jen arrived. Jen had doubts as to Stacy's real intent, which she felt were confirmed when Mattie offered to join the party. She had shyly indicated her legs and said that although they were getting stronger, she wasn't up to a bicycle race just yet, so it was more than likely that everybody would have to keep to her speed. To Jen's objections she answered that they would be on the bike path, and that it was flat, and if it did get too much for her, then there were benches every so often along the side of it, and it paralleled the road, so that if it was really needed Jen could rescue her in the car.

Jen's major concern for the moment wasn't so much for Mattie's legs but for her heart, she wanted to veto the plan, even though she acknowledged that she had no real right to do so, but she had promised Mac to do what she could to disentangle Mattie from Stacy. And if she were to be honest, she thought it would do Robert some good, even if it was only a means of getting him away from his overly-protective mother. She was rescued from her hesitation by Miles Caldwell asking her from across the room, "Do you ride a bicycle, Petty Officer?" his smile held such complete understanding that she was forced to smile back.

"Yes, of course!" she answered

"Well, Mrs Graham," he said turning to her, "I think you can relax; Petty Officer Coates and I should be able to control the youngsters!"

The only objection to the addition of Jen and Miles came from Robert, who said that he wasn't quite ready to fall off the perch just yet and was quite capable of looking after himself. "If I'd known a simple bike ride was going to cause this much fuss I'd never have mentioned the damn' thing!"

"Silence stick-insect!" Miles commanded in a shocked voice, "You're well out of order! You'll have the Petty Officer thinking you don't want her to go with you!"

Robert reddened in embarrassment and protested that he had meant no such thing, and that he was sorry if he had offended Petty Officer Coates!

Jen laughed at him, "I have no intention of playing the roe, of nursemaid or looking after anybody!"

Mattie enthusiastically embraced the revised plan, and asked "You are coming though, aren't you, Jen?"

Mattie's plea was echoed by Linda and in an attempt to make up for his clumsiness, by Robert. Jen was forced to laugh at their eagerness, far from sounding like confident, almost adult teenagers, they sounded like a couple of eight year-olds begging for a treat

"All right, all right! Enough! I'll come with you. When is the treat going to happen?"

"Right now," Robert said.

"Oh, no, no. There is no way that I am going to ride a bike along the Bike Path in my summer whites! Make it tomorrow, and I'll gladly come. But not in this!" She noticed a sudden gleam of interest in Stacy's eye, and cursed herself for… for… for not wearing the right clothes, for not saying 'no' for…

Miles Caldwell cut into her thoughts and the protests from the three younger members of the group. Although Mrs Graham could be heard, saying, "Well, if Jennifer's not going then I don't…"

Miles smiled ruefully, and said quietly, "We seem to have sown the wind, and are now reaping… Look I shouldn't think for a minute that we can rustle up six machines between us. We'll have to rent at least three, for my disreputable nephew, for Mattie, for me… and do you have a bike?" He raised an inquiring eyebrow, "No, I thought not, so make that four. How long will it take you to go home and change? Five minutes? Ten?" she nodded in assent.

"Go home, get changed, and meet us at the bike shack on Voltaire, while you're doing that I'll conduct this rabble there and arrange for the hire, we'll wait for you."

Jen didn't have time to waste in trying to think up reasonable excuses, so flashing him a grateful smile, she said a quick goodbye and almost ran out the house to the Escort.

Miles was as good as his word, and despite Stacy's chafing to be off, had held the group in place until a T-shirt and jogging pants Jen, her hair in a pony-tail and slightly breathless, joined them on Voltaire Street.

A few minutes into the expedition Jen felt that she could relax and enjoy it. Robert was showing no signs of tiredness, and was keeping his speed down to that set by Mattie. Jen could see that he was periodically but subtly checking that Mattie wasn't forcing herself to do too much, ready Jen was sure to call a halt on the pretext of his own fatigue should he think that Mattie had had enough. Stacy showed no tendency to try and monopolise Mattie's attention and appeared content to ride alongside Linda at the tail end of the group, and engage her in idle chatter. For most of the way Miles rode beside her and entertained her with talk of his years in Latin America, of the different countries he had visited and the different customs he had encountered. She'd had to tease him to opening up, he thought that people who talked of times spent in foreign countries were nothing but boasting bores, but Jen's questions were intelligent and her interest in his answers so real, that he lost some of his reticence, and was soon painting a vivid picture for her, even recounting some of his experiences - or misadventures as he called them. These ranged from the dramatic to the comical, but it was all too soon for Jen when he said, "No, that is quite enough about me! Tell me a little bit about yourself!"

"There's nothing to tell," said Jen, "I grew up in a small town in Maryland; I think I told you that I lost my mother?" He nodded.

"Well, then I told you about my father," Jen shrugged, "and the less said about him the better. I left home, joined the Navy, settled down, and now I'm here."

"But," he added his expression changing slightly, "what caused the breach between you and your father?"

"Oh, I don't know," she sighed, "everything, nothing; it didn't seem to matter what I did, he just never seemed to be _see _me, so I guess I acted out, to try and get his attention. Even anger was better than indifference. It became our pattern, he'd ignore me, I'd act out in some way, he'd get angry, then the anger would fade, and the whole thing would start over again. Until it just got so bad that I left. My father, I told you, was a Minister, but his God was the Old Testament God, with very little of the forgiving of the New Testament one."

"And so you ended up hating him?"

"Yes, yes I did, but it's not something I'm very proud of. You're not supposed to hate your parents! Oh! I'm sorry I didn't mean to… my damn' loose tongue; I do try to mind what I say…"

"Don't," he interrupted her with an appreciative chuckle, "I like the way you have of just saying whatever pops into your head."

"No, it's one of my bad habits that I really should break, it's nearly gotten me into more hot water than you could ever imagine!"

"Yes,"he replied, "I guess that in the military, it could land you in the smelly stuff!"

"Anyway," she said trying to restore some dignity, "I can't go round saying I hated my father; people would be shocked!"

"Well, I'm not," he replied imperturbably, "You did, didn't you?"

"Yes." She answered soberly, "but it's one of those taboos that you can't admit to. And," she sighed again, "if I hated him, I'm pretty sure he hated me, and that was probably my fault, I was too much of a burden to him. I didn't support him the way he wanted me to, I was, as he described me more than once, his undutiful daughter."

"Now, I should say that you have an all too marked sensed of duty."

"Maybe now, but not when I was younger, I was always in rebellion against him and his stupid rules, and his damn'_ respectability. _The rebellion didn't stop there of course, once I'd started, it continued into school, and then it go so that the neighbours expected to see me brought home in a patrol car. Then I left home, I got into more trouble until a judge gave me six months and a choice: serve my time or serve my country. I figured the Navy would be easier to run away from than jail, so I chose the Navy"

"How long ago was that?"

She grinned sheepishly, "About nine years ago."

"But if you'd done your time, you'd be a free woman now."

"No, I'd probably be like most of the crowd I ran with back then, either back in jail, or dead."

"But you've changed?" he asked

Jen chuckled, "Yes but it was close thing. I was up on charges again, and then I met an officer who actually seemed to care what happened to me. He looked after me all the way through the legal proceedings and he never asked for anything in return. He was the first person I'd ever met who treated me like that. So while I was doing my brig time, I had an attitude transplant and decided to make a go of the Navy. And that's what got me here today."

"But that's not all is it?" he asked, "There's your involvement with Mattie, and despite what you told me at our first meeting, you are not really _in loco parentis_ are you?

"No," she agreed, "someone once told me that I was too young for the position!"

"If you are fishing for compliments, Jennifer Coates, you can stop right there!" Startled by the acerbity of his reply, she shot a quick glance at him, and saw that despite his words he was smiling.

"Not trying for a compliment," she protested though a giggle, "just trying to see if I couldn't stall a come-back for once!"

"De-rail my questions?"

"No, she replied thoughtfully, "not really, it's just that there are parts of that story that belong to other people, and I wouldn't feel right in talking about them behind their backs." She looked at him again, half expecting him to be… not angry, but perhaps disappointed. But once again he surprised her.

"Quite right too! He agreed cordially, "Besides, it's deadly dull listening to complicated stories about people you don't know, and if you did know them," he added reflectively, "you'd probably dislike them or find them the dullest people you could ever wish to meet."

"Oh, yes!" Jen replied with distinct emphasis, "there was a Petty Officer I shared with in DC…" and then as she realised she was about to tell him a story about someone _he_ didn't know and _she_ thought was one of the dullest girls she'd ever met, she burst into laughter, and was forced to try and explain her by now somewhat convoluted train of thought.

He was quick to follow her line and before she had finished explaining, his smile creased his face and he said, "My point exactly!"

Their conversation was halted as they reached the turning circle under the intersection between the I-5 and the I-8 which Jen had stipulated as the furthest they were allowed to go. She looked carefully at Mattie to make sure that the girl was still in condition to attempt the ride back to the bike rental stall, and again at Robert to assess his condition, he was a little flushed but seemed fit enough to continue.

There was no opportunity to continue the conversation on the way back. Stacy had manoeuvred his bike alongside Jen's and Miles had dropped back to ride alongside Mattie, while Robert and Linda formed the third pair of the little procession.

"I hope you don't mind me riding back with you?" Stacy asked her, "I think we may have got off on the wrong foot, and I've wanted the chance to talk to you, so we can get to know each other a bit better."

"I'm listening," she answered evenly, "what do you want to say to me?"

He flashed his smile at her, "I think you know what I want to say! And I'm afraid that I shall be talking to a deaf ear."

"If you mean that I'm not going to listen to any carefully rehearsed speeches, you're dead right!" she told him, "Let's cut the crap. You want to persuade me to let you get engaged to Mattie. You're not even close on that one. Mattie isn't my ward. You need to speak to her guardian, Harmon Rabb; good luck with that!"

He looked a little disconcerted by her directness, but managed to reply, "If I'd known… I thought at first that she was Fran Neumann's ward! If I had known…"

"What stopped you from asking Fran's permission then?"

He bit his lip, "Yes, I should have done, but I thought that Mattie was over eighteen, and then, I thought that Fran was happy with the idea.. and then, knowing that my reputation isn't all it could be…ah, Miss Coates, you don't understand. It's just that we're so much in love that I sometimes let myself get carried away!"

"No, I don't think I do," agreed Jen.

He cast a suspicious look at her which she met with a faint bland smile. "From the moment I saw her I knew she was special!" he declared, "Yes, I've thought I've been in love before, but that was before I met Mattie and found out the difference between infatuation and love, I've told her about my past and I've promised to change! Miss Coates, we hoped, Mattie was sure, that you would help us, that you could use your influence with Mr Rabb!"

"Mr Caldwell, if I went to Mr Rabb and tried to support your case, he'd have me fifty-one-fifty'd before I could turn round, and I wouldn't blame him!" She continued, "What's more, somewhere along the line, you've been given bad intel. Mattie's 'plantation' is a one-family farm near Blacksburg and Grace Aviation is a small crop-dusting business. The income from both probably wouldn't keep you in bourbon for a year!"

If Stacy felt any discomfort at Jen's lack of response he hid it well, seeming to be in high spirits, lively and witty keeping Linda in giggles, and causing Mattie to ask Jen as they returned to Cape May Avenue if she didn't think he was neat as well as handsome.

"Well, he's OK I guess, but do you really think he's neat Mattie?" Said Jen on a note of surprise.

"Damn straight! Everyone does!"

"Oh!"

A ruffled Mattie said "Why all the prejudice Jen? Why don't you like him?"

Jen smiled, "If I told you the reasons, Matts, you'd be ready to slap me silly!"

"Yes, I probably would if you said what I think you might! You think he only says he loves me because he thinks I'm rich, don't you?" She waited for a moment, but as Jen stayed silent, she continued "That's just so wrong - and it's not like you, Jen! I'm sorry but you can't say things like that about him! He didn't know I had any property when he fell in love with me and when he found out later he was able to show me pictures of his house in Virginia and his vineyards in Sonoma. He's got so much more than me that it's dumb to think that he's only after my money!"

"I'm sorry, but it looks like he's misled himself and you too. He seems to think that your farm at Blacksburg and the Grace Aviation business are much larger properties than they are. His house in Virginia has a huge mortgage on it that he can't pay off, and I think that the Sonoma vineyard is mortgaged too! And in any case Mattie, do you really want to get married before you go to, never mind finish, college. And, if Tony gets your legs fixed and you get accepted to Annapolis, do you they'd take you as a married Midshipman?"

Mattie thought for a few moments and said "Harm wouldn't really want me to wait until I finish college would he?"

"Of course he would! Mattie, he's not very good at saying things like that, but Harm loves you very much. You know that don't you?"

"I guess."

"When you get married, Mattie, to the right guy, I know Harm will want to walk you down the aisle of the biggest church he can get hold of, and make sure you'll have a wedding you'll never forget!"

"Yeah, but that's all just stuff!" Mattie cried, "Stacy is the right guy, and I _can't _wait another four-five years until I graduate. If you'd ever _really_ been in love you'd know how I feel - you couldn't be so cruel!"

"I don't see anything cruel in wanting you to graduate college before you start a life of make do and mend!"

"But it wouldn't be like that Jen! Stacy told me he used to gamble. But he's given it up now for me!"

"If that's so then you don't need to go on like this. And if Stacy does mend his ways, and you still want to marry him after you graduate, then Harm and me will be happy for you!"

"But that's not what you want is it! You want me to go away to college, and you'd make sure that I went to one so far away that I'd never get to see Stacy, and you hope I'd forget all about him. But I won't! Oh, Jen, I thought you were my friend!"

"Mattie, you know I am!"

But Mattie trying not to burst into tears just swallowed and shook her head as they approached the apartment block.

In the meantime Stacy had persuaded his uncle to join him at dinner that evening at the Prado Restaurant in Balboa Park. The choice had been made carefully. The Prado had won accolades as the best new Restaurant in San Diego and had been voted one of the top ten restaurants in the country, yet was still within Stacy Caldwell's budget. The meal was not a complete success, although Miles had enjoyed his partridge in white wine, he was a sparing eater and had barely tasted his soup and refused a dessert, but was quite content to have his glass refilled at regular intervals.

Until the wreckage of the meal had been whisked away and a bottle of brandy placed on the table, Stacy had kept his conversation to everyday chat, but once the sommelier had left the brandy, Miles pushed his chair back from the table and stretching his legs out before him, crossed one ankle over the other and said, "Cut it out, Stacy! You didn't invite me here to fill my ears with local scandals. What do you want?"

"Nothing! What should I want?"

"I've no idea. Or what you think I could or would do for you."

Stacy wasn't encouraged by this, but he stuck to his plan. "Don't you think we ought to get to know each other?"

"No, why?"

"Well… our relationship!"

"Don't give it another thought! Relations are a dead bore!"

"Not you!" said Stacy with a laugh, "Far from it! I can't count the number of times I've heard your name this last week!"

"Well don't try! Are you hoping to borrow money from me?"

"A lot of good that would do me! You're probably as broke as I am!" Stacy said, emptying his brandy glass and reaching out for the bottle.

Miles who was warming his own glass in his cupped hands said, "As I don't know just how broke you are…"

He was interrupted, "Totally!" Stacy said, but this time his laugh had no mirth in it, "I'm flat busted!" He waited for a moment, but as Miles gave him no response other than a look of mild interest, he continued "I haven't had a win at cards or craps for weeks! I've only got to look at the dice and they come up snake-eyes. If I don't get a high stakes win soon, I'm likely to end up gutted!"

Miles Caldwell, his brandy now warmed to his satisfaction, savoured the aroma of the brandy and sipped it thoughtfully. "Oh, you'll probably come good," he said.

Stacy's anger surfaced, "Not if that damn' Coates woman can help it! And now she tries to tell me that Mattie's inheritance is some scrub farm on the edge of the Tidewater and a single hangar full of antique airplanes!"

"You'll just have to find another mark then, won't you?"

"Do you think I haven't tried? Dammit! I thought I had this one sewn up, but when the luck's out it's really out! I've been dodging the people I owe for weeks; I daren't show my face in Vegas anymore!"

"I should go abroad if I were you!"

"What would I live on?"

"On your wits!" Miles said cheerfully.

"I suppose that's what you did!"

"Yes, I did."

"They don't seem to have done much for you!"

Miles laughed, "More than a marriage to a not-so-wealthy heiress would have done, that's for sure!"

There was just enough contempt in his voice to make Stacy, already on his third glass of brandy, to lose his grip on his temper.

"You've no right to sneer! It's what you did - or tried to do!"

"Is it?" said Miles, "You appear to be remarkably well informed!"

"You told me yourself! muttered Stacy, "At any rate I've always known you ran off with some heiress."

"So I did." agreed Miles completely unabashed, "but I don't recommend you follow my example. Treat me as a grim warning."

"I don't want to run off with Mattie! It was never my intention, until that damned bitch returned to San Diego to screw up my plans!"

"That _what_?"

The astonishment in his uncle's voice recalled to Stacy's mind his reason for inviting him to dinner and with a rapid change of tactics he said, "I shouldn't abuse her, or blame her, I guess. But she's dead set against the marriage!"

"Well, you can't blame her for that!"

"I've just said I don't! I've tried my best to bring her round to my point of view; I've told her that I'll reform. All useless. Nothing I said had any effect on her!"

"You don't know that, you probably made her feel damn' queasy!"

"But it's true!" Stacy protested hotly, "I'll be a model husband!"

"Crap!" said his uncle.

"No, seriously, I will, I tell you!"

"Don't! What the hell's the point of telling me that or anything else? _I'm_ not the girl's guardian!"

"No but you could help me!"

"I doubt it."

"But I'm certain of it!" Stacy said urgently, again refilling his glass, "The Coates girl likes you - I heard how she talked to you today and laughing at what you said to her! If you were to support my case…"

"Yes, you _are _drunk!" interrupted Miles, with the air of someone making an interesting discovery.

"I'm not! I'll have you know…"

"Oh, not paralytic!" said Miles reassuringly, "Just about half-way"

"I'll bet I see you under the table!"

"You'd lose! Miles looked amused, "But I'd rather you'd made a try instead of talking such crap. _I_ plead your case? What in hell gave you the idea that I plead any cases except my own? Believe me you're not even close with that one!"

"You can't be so selfish as to refuse to even lift a finger to help me!" said Stacy indignantly,

"Oh, you're wrong there! I am precisely that selfish!"

"But I'm your nephew; you can't want me to be finished!"

"It's a matter of complete indifference to me!

"God almighty!" Stacy exploded

"As it would be to you if the same thing were to happen to me," said Miles slightly smiling, "Why should either of us give a damn about what happens to the other?"

Stacy gave an uncertain laugh "Dammit I've never met anyone quite as queer as you!"

"Don't let it bother you! Just believe that it would do you no good if I did plead your case to Jennifer Coates!"

"She would listen to you." Stacy objected, "And if she could be brought round I've no doubt she bring this Rabb character round. He doesn't bother much over Mattie, spends all his time in DC! And from what I've heard his wife and the girl are at permanent loggerheads, I'd say she be glad to get her off her hands!"

"Why waste your breath on me then? Talk to Mrs Rabb!"

"With Jennifer Coates against me?" Stacy asked scornfully, "I'm not that stupid!"

"Stacy if you think that Harmon Rabb could be persuaded by Jennifer Coates, or his wife or anyone else to consent to Mattie's marriage to a near-bankrupt, you're not stupid, you're certifiable!"

Stacy drained his fourth glass. "What'll you wager that he won't be forced to give his consent?" he demanded his speech now slurred. "Got to force him to... nothing else to be done… to recover."

"What about Highfields?"

"Highfields?" Stacy stared at him owlishly.

"Why don't you sell it?" Miles asked him coolly

"Sell it? I'm going save it! Before they can foreclose!"

"As bad as that?"

"Yes, damn you! Besides, I don' wanna sell it!"

"Why not? You said you hated the place."

"Yes, but it meanssomething. Consequence, standing. Plantation house, you know: Caldwell of Highfields. No substance without it - I'd be screwed!"

"It looks like you already are!" his uncle said caustically.

Jen's evening had been almost as unpleasant as Stacy Caldwell's. Mattie had flung herself into one of the armchairs and had buried her nose in a magazine, uttering only non-committal grunts when spoken to. Fran had tried to coax her out of her sullen mood, but had ceased her attempts when Jen caught her eye and emphatically shook her head.

Jen had never been so out of sympathy with Mattie; for the life of her she just could not see any quality in Stacy Caldwell that was even mildly attractive, let alone one that might captivate even the most naïve of girls. She had been quite prepared to excuse Mattie's early evening behaviour on the grounds of fatigue due to the unaccustomed exercise, but as the teenager's mood had persisted, she found herself growing impatient. Mattie was being a pain the neck, and Jen had never been quite so relieved as she felt when the door-phone announced that Mac had arrived to take Mattie home.

Pressing the button that released the building's front door she waited for Mac to arrive at the apartment. Mac was quick to sense the atmosphere in the apartment and raised an enquiring eyebrow, Jen's mouthed "Stacy Caldwell," at once enlightened her and dismayed her. She had hoped that her husband's ward had gotten over her infatuation. Noticing that Mattie had collected her sticks and school bag and was stumping towards the door without saying thanks or goodbye made her realise that a serious breach had opened between Jen and Mattie. Mac nodded her farewells to Jen and Fran and followed Mattie out into the hallway to where she was waiting for the elevator.

Carefully not looking at Mattie, Mac said in a conversational tone, "In the past I have sometimes been mad at you, Mattie, but never until tonight have you ever given me any reason to be disappointed in you or ashamed of you. I am only glad that Harm isn't here with us this evening."

The contrast between Mac's tone of voice and the words she had used caused Mattie to give a gasp of shock. "What… what do you mean?" she asked.

"I don't know what happened this afternoon," Mac replied, "and I don't want to know. What I do want is to tell you that there is never any excuse for bad manners and ingratitude!"

Mattie and Mac had had their disagreements in the past, but never had Mac spoken to her in just such a manner. "Wha… what did I do?" asked a confused Mattie.

"It's what you didn't do: Jennifer Coates is more than just a very good friend to you; she has almost been your sister. She has been more than a sister. She has cheerfully given up her time to run you around San Diego, and to accompany you to places and events that I know she didn't want to go, just to try and give you pleasure; she welcomed you into her heart and into her home both back in DC and here. She sat with you for days while you were comatose, and she cried for you and prayed for you to recover. She is a very attractive young woman, who should be out enjoying herself, she should be out dating, looking for the man she will marry and who will give her children of her own. She is under no obligation to you, yet for more than a year now she has given all that up to help Harm and myself to look after you, and you can't even thank her or say goodnight to her on yet another occasion when she brought you into her home and gave up more of her own time to look after you!"

Mattie looked at Mac, a horrified expression on her face, and although the elevator car arrived and the doors hissed open neither made a move to enter the car.

Mattie swallowed hard and thought for a few seconds before replying hesitantly in a hushed, shamefaced voice, "Mac… It's true what you said… but… it's worse than that isn't it? I've not just been bad-mannered and ungrateful… I've been taking Jen for granted… like she owed me… or something… Mac, can you wait here for me for five minutes… please? There's something I need to do."

As Mac and Mattie left the apartment, Jen said a somewhat curt goodnight to Fran and went to her bedroom, where a prey to a mixture of annoyance with Mattie and sadness for the rift between them, she sat on her bed, at a loss concerning her next actions in the battle to wean Mattie away from her infatuation with Stacy Caldwell. She was uneasily aware that Mattie's eighteenth birthday was in less than two months, and unless she could speedily be brought to her senses, there would be nothing anyone could do to prevent her from making a marriage that Jen knew beyond all shadow of a doubt would be a disaster and would end in failure and heartbreak. This was one occasion when she wished that Mattie wasn't quite so headstrong or independently minded.

Fran had rinsed out the mugs that had been used earlier to make hot chocolate for herself and Jen - Mattie had refused an offer of a hot drink with a mute shake of her head - when she heard a soft knocking at the door. Making sure that the chain was hooked into place, she opened the door a crack and saw a pale faced, but determined looking Mattie leaning on her sticks. "Fran, may I speak with Jen, please?"

"I don't know, Mattie, I think she's gone to bed," Fran looked again at Mattie, and realising that she was in earnest, opened the door and said, "Come on in, Mattie, I'll see if she's still up." Knocking on Jen's door, Fran said,"Jen, you've got a visitor."

Jen's reply was inaudible to Mattie, but from Fran's "I really think you should, Jen," it was obvious that Jen was disinclined to talk to her visitor. Fran's words took effect and Jen entered the lounge and stood looking at Mattie with an unfathomable expression on her face. Before Jen could say anything, Mattie without attempting to close the ten feet or so of space between them said, "Jen, I have been an ill-mannered and ungrateful brat to you this evening. And worse, I've been taking you for granted, when you don't owe me anything. If it means anything this late in the day, thank you for looking after me - not just today, but for all the times you have - I don't deserve a friend like you, and I don't deserve that you should forgive me, but I am truly sorry. So thank you, Jen, goodnight."

Mattie turned back towards the door and had reached for the door handle when Jen's voice from directly behind her said, "And just where do you think you are going? Do you honestly think that you can just walk back in here and say sorry, and that everything will be alright?"

Mattie stood still, facing the door, "No, Jen, I don't think that, but I hope that someday, soon, we can be friends again."

"Turn around and look at me Mattie Grace," Jen commanded. A reluctant Mattie turned and faced a still unsmiling Jen. "Mattie, what you just did was to make a very handsome and mature apology, without tears and without hysterics, and I accept that apology without any reservations whatsoever. You were wrong about one thing though; I do owe you, I owe you a debt of love. Mattie Grace, you are one of the very few people in my life who have accepted me as I am, without question and without demanding anything of me, and for that I love you, and that means that I will always forgive you, and that we will never be friends again 'someday soon' because we have never, never stopped being friends." Jen took the younger girl in her arms and kissed her on the forehead, "Now, I suspect Mac is waiting for you somewhere between here and the car, and you'd better not keep her waiting too long. Goodnight Mattie, I'll call you tomorrow!"

Mattie was silent as she rejoined Mac in the hallway. Mac gave her a brief look and made an accurate diagnosis that Mattie wasn't just sulking, but was thinking deeply. Mattie remained silent for the drive back to Pacific Avenue and in the glare of the streetlights and the headlights of oncoming traffic Mac could see the tears on glistening on Mattie's cheeks.

In the third-floor apartment on Cape May Avenue, Fran had been a silent witness to both the apology and the acceptance. As Jen closed the door behind Mattie and re-hooked the security chain, she was surprised at being taken into Fran's arms and ruthlessly hugged. In reply to her startled, "What's all this for?" Fran replied, "Someday, Jennifer Coates, you are going to be a brilliant mother! I hope I could, but I just don't know whether I could ever, have done what you just did; it was awesome!"

Jen disengaged from the hug, and standing back and holding both Fran's hands in her own and with her eyes full of unshed tears said "No Fran, it wasn't awesome; it was so very, very easy. You still don't get it, do you? I love Mattie just as much as if she were my own child, and that means I shall always love her and always forgive her. What was awesome is that Mattie had the courage to come back here when she knew she had been badly behaved and apologise to me for that behaviour. That, Fran, was awesome!"

Jen took a long time to fall asleep that night. Her thoughts and emotions were in turmoil. It was true, she did love Mattie as if the girl was her own flesh and blood; she had to. She had no child of her own. She fought back the tears, no child in her life and no man in her life to give her one. She had been feeling a sense of emptiness for a while, and it seemed that everywhere she looked she saw pregnant women. She was jealous of them all - even of Mac who was having such an horrendous time with her pregnancy - and sometimes she even hated them all. And God help her, she was even jealous of Fran, her best friend, who was so excited about her coming wedding and the prospect of her own child in the not too distant future. She tried to rationalize her feelings about Mattie, that she loved Mattie because the girl needed her, but she knew she was lying to herself; she loved Mattie because she needed someone to love.


	17. 16 October 2007

**Tuesday 16 October 2007**

Stacy Caldwell awoke the next morning with a thundering headache, a roiling stomach and only the vaguest memory of what might have been said during last night's dinner. And no idea how he had made it back to his motel. He had so much faith in his capacity for hard liquor and in his ability to drink any other man under the table that he placed the blame for his current condition on the poor quality of the brandy served at the Prado. When he eventually left his motel room and discovered that his BMW wasn't in the parking lot, he breathed a sigh of relief; at least he hadn't been stupid enough to try and drive!

Jen awoke that same morning to the knowledge that starting today, she must take steps to remove Stacy Caldwell from Mattie's life. That idea, and various plans on how to achieve her aim, pre-occupied her for the duration of her morning run, her shower and most of her drive to the Naval Station.

The extra security was still in place at the main gate and Jen, some four or five cars back in the line of vehicles waiting for examination amused herself by trying to identify any of the Marines on duty. Common sense told her that it was probably a different detail from those who had checked her in the previous morning, but for the life of her, she was unable to see the slightest difference in appearance between them. What is it she wondered that makes Marines so similar? Given a similar number of sailors she would have been able to differentiate between them unerringly. The Marines seemed to be taking their own time this morning and Jen's mood of whimsy was evolving into one of annoyance; she noticed that she had started drumming her fingers against the steering wheel and forced herself to stop. When her turn came for ID and vehicle check, she wordlessly showed her ID, popped the Escort's trunk and waited for clearance.

Jen made the first pot of coffee of the day, and set the countdown timer on her cell 'phone for forty-five minutes so she would have time to brew a pot of tea for Mac before the Colonel arrived at her desk. But although she returned to her own desk, and reached for the contents of her in-box, she couldn't make sense, or didn't want to make sense, of the paperwork, she acknowledged, and she finally recognised why she was feeling unsettled. The source of her discontent was her own words to Fran last night, and her own subsequent thoughts, she had 'no child of her own, and no man to give her one.' Did she want a child? Yes, of course she did. But she hadn't realised how much she wanted one until today! Did she want a man to give her one? Yes, of course. Oh there were alternatives. She could adopt, but somehow, and totally illogically, it wasn't 'right' for her. She couldn't find a reason other than the 'wrongness' of it. There was IVF, but she was a healthy young woman, and she wanted a child in the normal course of a happy fulfilling relationship, not a surgical 'intervention'. But the problem with having a full relationship with a man was that she didn't know many, and of the few she did know, none of them matched up to her standards - well one did, but he was taken. And she didn't relish the idea of hanging around bars and clubs trying to find 'Mr Right', she had a gut feeling that her type of man wouldn't be found in them either. But then… Miles Caldwell, he came close, very close to the mental image she had formed. Alright, he was older than she, by about twelve or fifteen years, but then again so was her exemplar, and he did seem keen to be in her company, and there had been a certain warmth in his eyes and in his smile when he had looked at her, and although he was perhaps a bit hard of feature, looks weren't everything, even so, he looked fit enough, and the bike trip had shown that his forearms, revealed by his rolled up sleeves, were muscular; a hint, perhaps, of what lay under the loose work-shirts he favoured. Yes, she'd discounted him the other evening, when she thought he'd asked her for a date, but perhaps that had been surprise, and now that she'd had time to consider, he might make a romantic partner, provided she could be sure he was in it for the long haul…

Mac's half-amused, half-annoyed "I wouldn't want work to interfere with your day-dreams, Petty Officer, but it would be pretty good thing if you could perhaps make some pretence at being alert!" snapped her out of her reverie.

A flame-red Jen shot to her feet, sending her chair flying in the process, "Ma'am, I'm sorry ma'am, I promise it…"

"Won't happen again! I know... I know. Petty Officer, we've been here before… although, this is the first time you've been day-dreaming so deeply I was able to creep up on you. Hell, I could have driven up to you at the head of an armoured division, and you still wouldn't have heard me!" Mac paused for thought, absent mindedly rubbing her stomach where she had just felt a twinge of cramp, "You know Coates, you are many things, you are still pretty annoying at times, you are probably the most insubordinate subordinate I've ever had, you handle people way too much, but you've never neglected your obligations and duties," Mac added with heavy emphasis, "either at work or in your life. So, this, it seems to me, means that you are doing some heavy-duty thinking about something. If it's about Mattie, and what happened yesterday, come and talk to me about it after we secure. If it's work related, then just bring it to me. Alright?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Good, now do you think we can start on the day's work now? Oh, and one other thing…"

"Yes, ma'am, one pot of fresh-brewed tea coming right up!"

"Coates, you don't brew tea, you mash it," Mac sighed. She had acquired the Royal Navy's slang at the same time she had acquired the Royal Navy's taste for English breakfast tea.

"Yes, ma'am!"

The rest of the morning kept Jen fully occupied, not only did she have the best part of an hour's lost work to make up, but she was trying to bury herself in work in an attempt to forget the embarrassment she had felt at being caught idling her time away.

Her industry kept her moving back and forth between her own and Mac's office and although her frequent interruptions were causing Mac a little aggravation, she was grateful for them; they kept her from concentrating on the now severe abdominal cramps that were attacking her, and she realised, were beginning to frighten her. Reluctantly, she picked up the phone, "Coates, get me General Cresswell, please."

"Yes, ma'am!"

What seemed an age later, the General's voice boomed in her ear, "Good afternoon, Colonel, or is it still good morning to you?"

"Good morning, sir!"

"What can I do for you Colonel?"

"Sir, have you received my Appendix A to NAVINST 6000 and my DD 689?"

"Yes, I have, and I'm sorry Colonel, I've been lax in not calling to congratulate you. I take it congratulations are in order, Colonel?"

"They are sir, thank you. But…" Mac hesitated, she didn't want to reveal any weakness that he might think unworthy of a Marine.

"Go on Colonel," his voice was encouraging, almost gentle.

"Sir, there are complications with this… with my pregnancy… and I'm OK now… well… I can manage for now, but I may need some help a little later, no, not medical help, I've got that covered. But after Falls Church and losing Tom Sturgess, and with Caroline Blaine PCS'd back to you, the only senior JAG I have left is Faith Coleman. Don't misunderstand me, sir, I have every confidence in her legal abilities, but I'm not sure she's the best person to have in temporary command… she has one or two character traits that tend to make people uneasy… Sir, I know you're trying to ease the manning problems we've got, but I really need another senior JAG, one to whom I can delegate command if I have to take time out…"

"Alright Colonel, I'll do my best to expedite matters. I'll call you back this afternoon, your time."

Mac winced as another agonising cramp struck. "I shan't be in the office this afternoon, General… I have an appointment, I can't miss."

"Alright Colonel, call me as soon as you can, I'll try and get an answer for you ASAP."

General Cresswell, replaced the phone on its cradle and looked at the blonde Commander sitting in one of the leather chairs opposite his desk. He held a swift internal debate and then sighed and said, "Commander McLellan, I'm sorry to do this to you, when you've only just got back Stateside, but I'm going to have to cut you new orders. I realise this will take you away from your husband, but I trust it will only be a temporary assignment."

The woman opposite him smiled, although perhaps the smile didn't quite reach her blue eyes as she replied in a light, clear voice which held just the trace of a Texas accent, "Why, sir, it comes with the territory. Where to, and when?"

"It's San Diego, I'm afraid Commander, and I think you're going to be needed ASAP." He noticed a slight raising of one eyebrow, "The CO there is Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie-Rabb, and… Is there something wrong, Commander?"

"No… not wrong, sir… Did you say MacKenzie-Rabb, sir? Would that be any relation to Harmon Rabb?"

"Yes, she's his wife. Do you know him?"

"Oh, yes sir. He was my first partner when I was a jg here, way back in '95. My, oh my, Harmon Rabb married! Now don't that just go to beat the band!"

"This isn't going to be a problem, is it Commander?"

"No, sir, no problem!" This time her smile, a smile of fond memory, did reach her eyes "I had a crush on Harm way back then, and if I'd stayed around then maybe something might have come of it; he was a Lieutenant then, and I was only a few months off my promotion, so for a while there would have been no fraternization. It mighta been kinda interesting once, but I'm happily married now; still it might be nice to see him again…I'm sorry sir; I'm not here to swap lies about the old folks back home! You were going to tell me about…"

"Yes, Colonel MacKenzie-Rabb has recently become pregnant, and reading between the lines, she's not having an easy time of it. Apparently there are health concerns that are affecting her. With the death of Commander Sturgess and Commander Blaine's PCS, she is short of an experienced JAG with enough time in rank to act as her two-oh and take temporary command if she has to be placed on hospital leave. Again I'm sorry for separating you from your husband, I know how much work you two put into getting stationed close together."

"Oh, Andy will just have to get used to it! After all I spent half our time in Britain not even knowing where he was! And I didn't spend all those years over there without learning something about how the British military works. I'm sure we can work some liaison visits for him to either Pendleton or the Recruit Depot at San Diego!"

"Of course, your husband's a Royal Marine isn't he?"

"Oh, no sir! He _is_ a Commando, but don't _ever_ call him a Marine, he's army through and through, Royal Artillery! But it's an understandable mistake sir, the British military wasn't planned, it sort of evolved and its twists and turns can be mighty confusing!"

In spite of himself the General grinned, he had a sneaking suspicion that the woman opposite was used to getting her own way when it came to dealing with organizations especially those that twisted and turned. He'd been a bit dubious about having under his command an officer married to another officer who was commissioned in a foreign army. But it was beginning to look like having Meg McLellan under his command might be a rewarding challenge, and her breadth of experience, not just with the British but also with other NATO allies, might be damn' useful.

"Commander, I'll leave those matters in your undoubtedly capable hands! Now I suggest you go home and hug your husband, pass on to him my apologies, pack, and then return here tomorrow at oh-eight-thirty hours, Sergeant Brewer will have a full briefing and your orders ready for you by then. Dismissed, Commander."

"Aye, aye, sir!

Mac had put down the phone on her desk and grabbed her stomach as another spasm of cramp, almost paralysing in its intensity, gripped her. Frantically she groped for the call button on the office inter-phone, "Coates!" she gasped, "Help!"

Jen heard the panic in Mac's voice and was in her CO's office before her chair, for the second time that day, had hit the floor. Mac was doubled over in obvious pain, and when she looked up at Jen her face was a mask of agony and fear.

"Easy ma'am, easy. Is it the baby?" Mac, biting her lip against a fresh wave of cramp, nodded. Jen quickly made a discreet check of Mac's uniform skirt, and relieved that there was no indication of bleeding, came to a decision. Picking up the 'phone she punched in the number of the Marine Security Detail desk and she said, "I need two male marines in the JAG's Office, now! Without waiting for confirmation she disconnected and called Sam Martin's number, "Sam, It's Jen, get hold of an officer, any officer and tell them to get to the Colonel's office, now!"

Turning to Mac she said, "It's alright ma'am," hoping the hell it _was_ alright, "I'm going to take you straight to the ER. I can't see any blood, but this doesn't look too good, I want to get you checked out. I've got help coming… No, here it is! Corporal, I need you two to help the Colonel down to the front door, thank you, and then help me get her into her car; here are her keys! It's the silver Lexus in her marked bay. Lieutenant Graves, ma'am, the Colonel's not well, I'm taking her to MedCen; please tell Commander Coleman she's temporary JAG, until she hears from the Colonel, thank you ma'am!"

Even with the help of the two powerfully-built Marines it took a good few minutes to assist the groaning Mac through the open-mouthed bull-pen, down to the front door and load the weakly protesting Marine Corps Colonel into her car, and the eight minutes it took Jen to pilot the Rabb family SUV the ten miles to Bob Wilson Drive were some of the longest minutes in Jen's life, and her "Hang on in there Mac, hang on in there Mac!" became a mantra but whether for Mac's or her own benefit Jen wasn't sure..

Jen leapt out of the vehicle as soon as she brought to a halt, and saying "Stay there Mac, I'll get help" rushed into the ER where her garbled explanation brought two Corpsmen with a gurney running out to the SUV. An on the ball Corpsman on the ER desk had called OB/Gyn and Mac was whisked away out of sight. Jen, determined to stay with Mac, gritted her teeth and took off after the gurney. On arrival at OB/Gyn Tiffany Robbins had gathered together a small crew of nurses and Corpsmen and under Jen's anxious eye, transferred Mac to the examination table, and started stripping her of jacket and skirt. "Are you family Petty Officer?" asked the doctor.

"No ma'am, I'm her Yeoman, but her husband's in DC and I'm the nearest thing she's got to family here! Please, ma'am, let me stay with her?"

"I'm sorry Petty Officer, I know you're concerned, but no can do! No… don't argue with me, please, we haven't got time!"

Jen was gently but inexorably ushered out of the examination room into the waiting room, half full of mothers-to-be in every stage of pregnancy, and who, for the moment, Jen was able to shut out of her consciousness. After staring at the examination room door for a few moments Jen came to a decision. Walking out into the hallway and fishing her cell 'phone out of her purse, she dialed a long-familiar number. The phone at the other rang and rang, "Come on," she muttered impatiently, "Come on, answer the damn' phone Harm!"

Harm's phone in DC kept ringing and Jen was about ready to howl in frustration when at last it was picked up. "Harm!" she almost screamed.

"No... he's not available right now." The voice was familiar, but for the moment Jen couldn't place it.

"Who is this ?" she demanded.

"Jennifer, is that you? This is Harriett."

"Harriett? What are you doing with Harm's 'phone, where is he, ma'am?"

"Harm's in DC. He's been staying with us, and he forgot his cell this morning, he left it on his nightstand, and I just couldn't stand it ringing, so you got me."

"Oh... do you have a number I could reach him on, please?"

"No, I'm sorry Jennifer, is there something wrong?"

"Yes... no... I don't know... just ask him to call me as soon as you get in touch with him, any time day or night it doesn't matter!"

"There is something wrong, Jennifer, what is it?"

"I can't tell you, because I don't know if there is something wrong, please, Harriett, just ask him to call me!"

"All right, Jennifer, all right, I'll tell him. If his last week's schedule is any guide he should be home by about sixteen-hundred-hours PST, I'll get him to call then."

"Oh thanks Harriett, and Harriett, say 'Hi' to Bud for me, please and give my love to your tribe!"

"I will Jennifer, and I'll make sure Harm calls you."

Ending the call, Jen, fuming with impatience, scrolled through the numbers stored in her 'phone memory until she found the number she needed, "Hello Mount Miguel High?... This is Jennifer Coates, I work for Mattie Grace's mom. I need a message taken to Mattie...First off, she's not to be worried... Her mom's not too well right now... and she's at the Navy Hospital... I'm with her, and I'm just waiting to hear what the doctors have to say... as soon as I know... I'll be coming to the school to collect Mattie... Yes, it's a blue '97 Escort four-door, license plate Hotel Tango Whisky Niner Four One, I'll be in navy uniform and carrying my navy ID, and if Mattie's got her day-book in her bag, there should be a photograph of the two of us on the inside of her front cover. Do you need anything else? OK, thank you, I'll pick her up from the school office, and I'll call again to let you know that I'm on my way."

Thankful that the school secretary hadn't been as difficult as she could have been and demanded all sorts of references to make sure that Jen wasn't trying to abduct Mattie, she returned to the waiting room and took a seat on one of the blue, padded benches and avoiding eye contact with any of the women waiting for their OB/Gyn appointments, waited to hear what, if anything, she was to be told.

Jen didn't have Mac's inbuilt clock and was reduced to comparing the time shown on her wrist watch to that displayed on the digital clock over the examination room door. After what seemed to be the twentieth time in half as many minutes, the young Lieutenant jg Nurse at the desk approached her and said, "Petty Officer, you need to relax, Commander Robbins knows what she's doing and your Colonel couldn't be in better hands. Why don't you take a five minute break, there's a break room right down the hallway with some vending machines, go and get yourself a cup of coffee or a soda, or something."

"Ma'am, I think I'd rather stay here, I can't leave the Colonel alone, her husband's out of town and..."

"Petty Officer, I know you're concerned and upset, but you're so restless that you're stressing these other women here, and I'm sure you wouldn't want to be the cause of anything happening to any of them, would you?"

Jen smiled weakly, unhappy about being shoo'ed out of the waiting room, but she admitted to herself she could do without being surrounded by pregnant women at the moment, so with mixed feelings she allowed the nurse to usher her out of the waiting room and point out the break room at the end of the hallway. She had just persuaded the vending machine that she really did want a coffee and had taken the first sip, wincing at the taste and wondering why, after her past experiences she had expected anything different, when the same Lieutenant jg Nurse who had effectively banished her from OB/Gyn came to fetch her.

"Colonel MacKenzie-Rabb is out of the examination room but we're keeping her in overnight, just for observation, she'll be in the Mary E Dalton Ward, that's the ward at the other end of the hallway. Give us ten minutes to get her settled, and then you can come on down."

"Ma'am, thank you. Look, I know that strictly speaking I'm not family, but I've worked with the Colonel since 2002, and I was her husband's co-guardian of his daughter before he and the Colonel were married and now her husband's in DC, and I've got go and collect his daughter from school and... it's complicated ma'am, but I got to have something to tell Mattie," she ended miserably.

The nurse smiled sympathetically, "Look I can see you're worried, but I really can't tell you anything, firstly because no matter how close you are to the Colonel, you aren't family, and secondly because I really don't have any details. Maybe Commander Robbins will be able to help you." She thought for a moment more and said, "OK, come with me now, I'll take you down to the nurses' station on Dalton ward, and if the Commander is there I'll see if we can persuade her to tell you something you can pass on, OK?"

Jen nodded in agreement and the two walked down the hallway, the clicking of Jen's heels contrasting with the silence of the nurse's soft-soled shoes.

Commander Robbins was still at Mac's bedside as she gave instructions to the nursing staff on Mac's treatment. Finishing her list of instructions which she gave out in a rapid-fire staccato completely at variance with her Dresden doll appearance, she turned to Jen and remarked, "You have got one stubborn CO, there Petty Officer."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yes, she wouldn't take her meds until I ordered her to, and only then under protest and only after I promised her I'd give you a briefing on her condition. Now I've managed to give her some pain relief, and a mild sedative so she can rest, so she'll be out of it for a couple of hours, so if you'll walk with me, please," and turning led Jen back along the hallway towards the consulting suite, "How much do you know about Colonel MacKenzie-Rabb's condition? I got the impression that you and she are quite close?"

"Uh, I wouldn't exactly say 'close' ma'am, but I have known her for about five years, and I've been her Yeoman for just over a year, and I do have connections with her husband and his daughter, from before they were married, ma'am." Jen to her chagrin found herself blushing as she realised just how her words could be misinterpreted. "I... I mean that I shared an apartment with Mattie, next door to the Commander's because his was only a one bedroom apartment and... I was sort of helping look after Mattie... and then he married the Colonel and we all sort of moved on... and it's..."

"Complicated?"

"Yes, ma'am,"replied Jen torn between worry that she had said too much and thankful for Commander Robbins' forbearance in asking any awkward questions.

"But you still haven't told me how much you know about Colonel MacKenzie-Rabb's health issues?" As she spoke, the doctor opened her consulting room door and indicted that Jen should sit down

"Well, ma'am, I know she's got some sort of... growths? That made it difficult for her to get pregnant, and I know she's worried that it might cause her to have a miscarriage, but I didn't know it could hurt her like she was earlier. Ma'am, the Colonel's a Marine! I know she's been shot at least once, and I know she's done things I never could, she's tough, ma'am, and to see her the way she was this morning..."

"Alright, Petty Officer. Take a couple of deep breaths. OK? Good, now look at this diagram," she pulled on a cord and a life size sectional chart of a female body dropped down from a roller fixed high on the wall. "Now you see, this here's the stomach, the womb and the bladder, right? Now you'll notice they're all pretty well tight up against each other?" she paused for confirmation that Jen had followed her. "Well one of the effects of Colonel MacKenzie-Rabb's condition is that some of these 'growths' have formed adhesions between these and other organs. As her womb stretches with the baby inside, it pushes the other organs away from it, and these adhesions get pulled apart and it's the pulling that causes the pain, and we can treat that when we need to. Now we've done a sonogram and the baby looks fine. So for the moment there's no real need for concern, but I would like to talk to Mr Rabb as soon as possible."

"Yes, ma'am, I've left word that he is to call me ASAP, and I reckon he'll be calling at about sixteen hundred hours. Ma'am, is the Colonel able to have visitors? It's just that I'm going to have to pick Mattie up from school, and she's going to want to see the Colonel..."

"I don't know... How old is Mattie?"

"She's seventeen ma'am, and pretty mature for her age, well most of the time she is..."

Commander Robbins smiled sympathetically, "A typical teenager then? OK, if you think she can handle it, then yes, she can visit, but the other patients don't need to hear screams or extended crying jags, so it's up to you to keep any fuss down. or else out she goes. And as I said, the Colonel's liable to be out of it for another couple of hours. Now, when Mr Rabb calls you, give him my number," she passed a card to Jen, "and have him call me. I'll leave word with the desk that they are to page me immediately he calls, or if I'm with a patient, I will call him back as soon as I can."

"Thank you ma'am!"

It was a greatly relieved Jen who heel-clicked her way along the hallway to the elevator bank and waited for the car to reach her floor. As she waited she heard her stomach protest at its empty condition and in some surprise, she checked her watch to find that the late morning and early afternoon has passed and that she had no time to get back to JSLT before meeting Mattie. A quick 'phone call to the school to assure them that she was on her way was followed by a second call to her own desk. The phone was picked up on the third ring and she heard the half-expected voice, "JSLT, Seaman Yates, sir."

"Yates, this is Petty Officer Coates, I need to speak to whichever officer has the Colonel's desk."

She waited until a familiar voice on the other end of the line asked, "Coates? How's the Colonel?"

"Lieutenant Graves, ma'am; the doctor says the Colonel's in no danger, and that the baby is fine. They've given her pain meds, and they're keeping her in overnight for observation. I really called to say that I need to take the rest of the day. Mr Rabb's still in DC and there's no-one else to look after Mattie until the Colonel gets back home..."

"OK, Petty Officer. Commander Coleman's still in court, which is why I'm here, but as soon as she's back, I'll let her know what's happening; I'm sure she'll say the same as me, take as much time as you need, but let us know what's happening, OK?"

"Yes, ma'am, thank you ma'am." I wish I was as sure of Coleman's reactions as you are, Lieutenant, Jen thought, Commander Coleman's a pretty cold fish at times.

Jen just had enough time to grab a sandwich from the cafeteria on the ground floor before she had to run for the car. Reaching the parking lot, she stood confused, her Escort was nowhere in sight, and then as she looked at the keys in her hand she remembered that she had been driving the Lexus and with a sigh of relief made her way to the big silver-grey car.

Mattie had been cautious in her approach to Jen, still unsure of her reception, wanting the comfort of her kinda-sister's friendship and needing her reassurance, but afraid of rejection if she made any overtly affectionate gestures. Her apprehension was swept away as Jen, sensing her inner conflict, swept her into her arms, saying "It's alright, Matts, it's alright, our silly little squabbles don't amount to a hill of beans."

"It's not that Jen, how's Mac?"

"Let's get you into the car, and then I'll tell you what's been happening."

Jen walked Mattie out to the car and in response to her startled look between Jen and the Lexus, said, "We were in a bit of a hurry, and it was easier to get Mac into this instead of my old thing. I'm just glad she didn't have the Mustang today! Now, let's get you safely on board!"

After helping Mattie into the vehicle, Jen turned to face Mattie and said, "Mac had some pains this morning, so we decided that it would be best if she had them checked out. I took her up to the MedCen, and she's had a sonogram, the baby's fine, but they gave her some pain meds and a sedative, so they're keeping her in overnight just to keep an eye on here and to see how she does in the morning."

"Can I see her?"

"Yes, I'm going to take you straight there, but she might not be fully with us yet. Mattie, she had a bit of scare this morning, I think she was afraid she was going to lose the baby, so be a bit careful about any questions, huh?"

"Yeah, sure; I get it, no dumbass questions, like how're you feeling? How's the baby? and..."

"That's about it, but another thing too, Mac's still a Marine, and she'll probably try to pretend that she's fine, so if that's what she says, don't push it, just go along with it, OK?"

Mattie thought for a moment and then said, "It's worse than you're telling me isn't it, Jen?"

"Nooo, well, I don't think so... here's the thing, I'm not family, so the doctors can't tell me too much, they're not allowed to, those good old sucky navy regs, remember? We had the same problem with Fran?"

"Yeah, I remember... will they tell me do you think?"

"Probably not, but I left a message with Harriett Sims, and she's promised to get Harm to call me at sixteen hundred hours, and I'll put him in touch with Commander Robbins, the doctor, and then I'm sure he'll tell you all he can, 'kay?"

"Yeah... I guess."

Seaman John Yates, known by all the other occupants of the bull-pen as "Rowdy" had gained an enormous amount of confidence, even in the short space of time since Lieutenant Simms had disappeared. He was still nervous of authority figures, and especially of Petty Officer Coates; he liked her and admired her, not just because she was good at her job, but that she also seemed able to talk anybody, enlisted or commissioned confidently without blushing or tripping over her teeth. She seemed to have developed an interest in him, and while he knew it was only a professional interest, he couldn't help noticing that she was a very attractive woman. But then again, so was Lieutenant Graves, and Lieutenant Walker, and even that annoying Petty Officer 3 Sandy Dennis was quite pretty, in fact, he reflected, the whole damn building seemed stuffed with pretty women! But, he acknowledged, with a sigh of resignation, although he now felt better about himself, he still hadn't got enough nerve to ask any of them out on a date, not even Elena Sanchez, the very friendly Seaman Personnel Specialist.

In the meantime he was kept too busy to spend much time daydreaming. He had just about mastered the art of deciding which officer should get what reports and correspondence, and was now familiar enough with the office's current case load not to have to hunt for files when one was mentioned in order to discover what the case was about. Today, although he was kept fully occupied by office routine, had otherwise even been quite an easy one, although he had watched, as had everyone in the bull-pen as the CO had been half-carried across the office, and could surmise - if the scuttlebutt was right, and she was going to have a baby - that there was something wrong. He hoped that it was nothing too serious, he was still shaken by the effect that losing her baby had had on his sister. It had taken her months to even seem to get over the loss, although he wasn't sure that she had ever gotten over it.

Lieutenant Graves was holding down the JAG's seat while Commander Coleman was in court, and the Lieutenant had only required one thing from him, and that was a cup of coffee, leaving him ample time to work his way through not only Coates' in-box, but a good proportion of his own work as well. He had a way to go yet before he became eligible for E-4, but if he kept his nose clean and his work squared away then once he made E-4 perhaps he might be able to re-train from Yeoman to Legalman, he had seen how Coates and the other Legalmen in the office worked with instead of just for the JAGs, and their work seemed to be more varied and interesting than his own. It was strange though that Coates, although a Legalman was doing a Yeoman's job; he supposed that being the CO's Yeoman was more interesting than being in the bull-pen, and she did do Legalman wok for the CO as well!

The 'phones' ring had him stretching out his hand to pick up and his "JSLT, Seaman Yates, sir," was now habitual; the distant female voice had a surprised note when it asked, "Who? Isn't that Coates' number?"

"Yes, ma'am! Petty Officer Coates is out of the office at the moment, ma'am!"

"Oh... and don't call me ma'am, I work for a living! This is Sergeant Brewer at JAG HQ, General Cresswell's Yeoman. I'm calling to give Coates a heads-up. There's a Commander McLellan on her way to you, on TAD, ETA Miramar tomorrow at eleven hundred hours, she'll need a billet in VOQ, at least to start with. Because it's such short notice, I'm faxing a copy of her orders over to you. Get hold of Petty Officer Coates and pass the word for me, please."

"Yes, ma'... Sergeant!"

Yates didn't have many minutes to wait before the bull-pen fax machine started churning out a copy of Commander McLellan's orders and collating them as he went, he returned to the CO's office and rapping on the door jamb waited for Lieutenant Graves' bidding before entering. "Ma'am we've just received a faxed copy of orders for a Commander McLellan, Megan E," he scanned the personal details and added, "she's a JAG on TAD from Falls Church, ma'am and due in at Miramar tomorrow at on the eleven-hundred flight from DC, ma'am".

"Thank you, Yates. Is there any word on the Colonel or Coates yet?"

"No, ma'am, nothing heard. I have Coates' cell number; if you like I could call her?"

"No, no thank you Yates; let's give it another hour before we send out a search party."

The object of their attention was at that moment receiving a phone call from an agitated Harmon Rabb. "No sir... er... Harm... I don't have the full intel, that's why I've given you the doctor's number. No, as far as I understand they're keeping her in for one night for observation only. Sir? Talk to the doctor, please? I don't know sir... can you get home? What about the hearing? What if they decide that you've gone UA? Isn't that contempt of a Federal Court? Sir, getting locked up won't help the Colonel, sir!"

Breathing a sigh of relief as Harm finally decided to follow her advice Jen indicated, checked her rear view mirror and pulled out into the traffic as she continued on her way to the medical centre. Mattie looked across at her and said, "How was he?"

"About how you'd expect, alarmed, worried, threatening to jump on the next available flight back to San Diego."

"Did you calm him down, even if just a bit?"

"Yes, at least I got him to call Commander Robbins, but I'm still half expecting a call to pick him up from the airport at oh-two-hundred!"

"What happens if he bails on this Grand Jury thing?"

"Well they could hold him in contempt of a Federal Court, and that could mean a little jail time, but usually they only hold them overnight and bring 'em back the next morning to apologise!"

"Do you think he'd risk going to jail for Mac?"

"Do you remember when you first met Harm?"

"Yeah... oh... yeah, the mean old bald guy had just fired him from the navy, for going to Paraguay to save Mac..."

"Right, so if he was ready to give up his career once for Mac, when they weren't married, what makes you think he wouldn't do it again now that they are married and she's pregnant?"

"Yeah... I guess."

They were pulling into the parking lot as they spoke, and once again Mattie had to resort to the use of her disabled badge before they could find a parking space and they were able to climb out of the Lexus. As they crossed the parking lot towards the main doors, Jen's right arm jerking up and down like a marionette's as they passed and she saluted a never ending stream of officers, she reflected that she seemed to spending more time here than at the office recently. Her comment to that effect drew a muffled giggle from Mattie, which earned her in return a darkling glare from Jen.

Arriving at Mary E Dalton Ward they found that the Nurse Lieutenant on duty had been more than half expecting them, so after repeating to Mattie the doctor's warnings about extreme behaviour showed them to Mac's room.

Mac was resting with her eyes shut, and although she still looked a little pale, she seemed to be pain-free. Mattie's soft "Mac, hi." Was sufficient to open her eyes, and she made an attempt to smile, "H'lo, Mattie, H'lo Coates, goo' t' see you. I guess I screw' th' pooch this time, huh?"

"You did just fine ma'am. The doctor says you should be out tomorrow and the baby's fine. You just need to rest a bit."

"Need t' tell Harm... not t' worry..."

"I gave him the doctor's number ma'am, and he knows if he needs to come home, all he has to do is let me know, and I'll pick him up at the airport, so you don't need to worry about him; you need to rest. I'll be fine, I've got Mattie to look after me, and I'll be back to bring you home in the morning."

"Yeah, you do what Jen says, Mac, 'cause you're going to need your strength by the time I'm done with you. What did you think you were playing at, giving us all a fright like that?"

"You're damn' lucky they sho' me full o' happy juice Mattie Grace, I might jus' not 'member wha' you said when I fin'ly wake up..." Mac's eyes closed again, and after a waiting a couple of minutes Jen and Mattie exchanged glances and quietly left the room. As they approached the nurses' station, Jen whispered to Mattie, "You go on ahead and I'll catch you up, I want to see if I can get any intel from the nurse, and she may not be comfortable with you hearing what she has to say."

"What you mean, is that you want to filter what she says before you tell it to me!"

"Yeah, there's that too! Go on on, I'll catch you up, if I don't wait for me at the seats near the main doors!"

Jen's purpose in diverting Mattie was not to gain information from the nurse, but rather to impart it. What Mac had said about being pumped full of 'happy juice' had alarmed her; she knew that Mac resisted any form of medication, not because she was trying to be a hard-ass Marine, but because she was afraid of becoming addicted.

"Excuse me Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Petty Officer?"

"Ma'am, about Colonel MacKenzie... she said she was pumped full of something?"

"Eventually, yes, she didn't want to take anything, although she was in pain."

"Yes ma'am, that's what I thought might happen."

"Why's that, Petty Officer?"

"Well, ma'am the Colonel's afraid she might get addicted... she's had a problem in the past..." and responding to the nurse's questioning look, Jen looked unhappy, and added "Please don't ask me, ma'am, I've already said more'n I should." The nurse looked startled, and grabbed a folder out of her file-rack and thumbed through it. "OK, Petty Officer - we got it. The doctor's taking it into consideration, and we're monitoring the intake and the Colonel's reaction to the drugs."

"Yes, ma'am, thank you ma'am! But it might help her if you could let her know, maybe off the record, that you're watching it for her? It might make her feel better about taking them?"

"We'll give it a try, Petty Officer. Thank you for your suggestion."

Watching Jen walk away the nurse shook her head, wondering what it was about one of the most difficult patients she had yet seen, that could make her juniors so concerned about her.

Rejoining Mattie in the hospital lobby, Jen blew out her cheeks, "Well, Matts, I just need to make one 'phone call, and then I'm done for the day. She slumped on the bench seat next to Mattie and said, "I'm pooped! I've been running round all day, it's just been one thing after another! And do you know what I really, really want - and don't start with the Spice Girls - I really want to take these damn shoes off, my feet are killing me!"

"I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want..." warbled Mattie, until a huge grin effectively shut her up as she pretended to duck Jen's pretend swat.

"Just for that, I'm tempted to change my mind and go home and cook dinner for us. But I'm too tired. What say I get you home... you'll have to sleep on the couch, by the way. We can pick up your overnight things on the way, and then once I've quick-showered and changed, we go for dinner at the Third Corner Pizza and Wine Shop?"

"Sounds good to me, Jen."

"Yeah, but first I got to make that damn call!"

Jen couldn't help feel a little surge of gratification as Yates picked up his 'phone before the fourth ring and answered just as Jen had taught him to. She asked to be put through to whoever had the CO's chair and was mildly surprised it was still Lieutenant Graves, and that Commander Coleman was still in court, but before he put her all through, Yates asked her not to hang up before he'd had a chance to speak with her again.

Jen's briefing to Lieutenant Graves was brief, accurate and clear. Colonel MacKenzie would be released from hospital in the morning and was to take one week hospital leave. The Colonel disagreed and the doctor was now threatening her with the week in hospital instead. The issue was still deadlocked, and Jen wasn't sure against whom to bet.

Yates' query was even easier to square away. Lieutenant Graves had said that she would meet the incoming Commander McLellan at Miramar in her own vehicle and would then bring her back to the Naval Station, either direct to JAG or to her quarters at the VOQ. But how, Yates wanted to know was he to arrange accommodation at the VOQ? He listened intently to Jen's instructions and when he was satisfied that he had understood them repeated them back to her to confirm his grasp of the procedures.

Jen had rarely been so glad to get home at the end of the day. Her shoes which had felt so comfortable this morning now seemed to crush her tired and aching feet. Her shower didn't help refresh her to any great degree, and she had been hoping to ask Fran to cook for all of them, but with Fran out somewhere with Tim the idea of having to fix dinner for herself and Mattie was even more unappealing than heading out to get something to eat at the Third Corner, so she forced herself to throw on a shirt and a pair of slacks before gathering up Mattie and driving the few blocks to Third Corner. The restaurant, with its cluster of pavement tables hadn't yet begun to get busy and with the warmth of the evening and the setting sun to prolong that warmth both Mattie and Jen by an unspoken agreement moved towards one of the pavement table. Jen now faced with the wide ranging and eclectic menu suddenly discovered that although hungry she didn't have much of an appetite and decided to make do with a starter rather than a main course, but Mattie with the unimpaired hunger of a teenager happily chose a starter and a main course.

Jen was struggling to finish her meal when a shadow fell across the table, and a voice that was fast becoming well-know to her said, "What's this? You'll be fading away to a shadow, next!" Jen felt her heart give a lurch as she squinted up at the back-lit figure of Miles Caldwell as he indicated one of the two spare chairs at the table and asked, You don't mind if I sit do you? It would be a poor reward for my efforts if you said you did."

Mattie's grin of welcome was genuine, apart from this weird guy being Stacy's uncle she was not immune to his smile nor, having her own highly developed sense of the ridiculous, his quirky sense of humour. Jen was not so sure that he was a welcome sight, her emotions and thoughts of the previous night and of this morning were, despite or maybe even because of, her tiring day still fresh in her memory, but his smile was friendly and after a day like today, a friend might be just what she need. "Well, without knowing what sort of efforts you made, it's hard to tell if I should let you sit or not."

"Oh a huge effort; I was driving back to Seventh Avenue from Long Branch - yes I was visiting Robert to see how he was after our expedition, no ill-effects whatsoever you'll be glad to hear - when I saw you two sitting here, so I made the effort of turning the car around, parking it and tramping the entire twenty yards until I got here."

"Oh, we are flattered," said Jen, "we didn't think you went to such lengths for anyone except yourself."

"Yes, extraordinary, isn't it? I can't think what came over me!"

Mattie, who had formed a pretty good idea of what had come over him, gave vent to a smothered giggle, drawing towards her one pair of indignant brown eyes and a second pair of amused grey eyes.

Jen's indignation was caused by her mixed feelings towards Miles Caldwell. She still wasn't quite sure that she liked him. He amused her and she enjoyed his company, but he had the knack of goading her into losing her temper and shocking her by his unconcerned rejection of the principles of duty, loyalty and responsibility in which she so strongly believed. It had not even crossed her mind that in tolerating his company she was influenced by anything else than the hope that she might somehow persuade him to rid Mattie of his nephew's presence.

Yes, he had refused, without hesitation to interfere. But she still hoped, with the idea growing as the days passed that if he wished to bring Stacy's plans crashing down in ruins, then he would know exactly how to do it. To persuade him to adopt such a course was her clear duty but if anyone had suggested that in this case she found her duty to be a pleasant one, she would have said that it was lucky that she found Miles Caldwell to have some attractive qualities, but notwithstanding her day dreams would have laughed at the idea that she was falling for him.

As proof of her lack of feeling towards him she thought, this awkward silence ought to be sufficient. The only thing she felt she could discuss with him was Mattie, and her presence made that impossible.

It was, however, Matte that saved the day, "You were at Long Branch? " she asked.

"I was," he replied gravely, but Jen saw the amusement in his eyes and her heart sank, dreading what he might say.

"Did you go to see Robert? How... how is he?"

"He's doing well, but I think he still needs taking care of, and what's probably more difficult, persuading him that he needs to care of himself, unless he wants to suffer a relapse." Jen marked that his tone was matter-of-fact, with no hint of concern in it.

"Could he get ill again?"

"Well, some of these South American fevers can be recurring..." and he started to recount some of the health risks still to be found in the more remote parts of South America. From there it was only a small step to describe, to a wide-eyed, believing teenager, aspects of South American life, climate, culture, scenery and wildlife. His stories drawing from Mattie repeated exclamations of, "No Way! Fantastic! Wicked!", that Jen thought were a pretty fair description of the accuracy of his anecdotes.

She had remained quiet, perhaps sheltering under the cover of pretending to be entertained by his ramblings, until she summoned up the energy to tell Mattie that it was time to go. Her attempts at saying goodbye to Caldwell were stymied by his insistence on walking them to their car. She maintained a polite silence, until after Mattie had swung herself up into the passenger seat, he remarked, "I wish the sun had stayed up a little longer, it's a bit cold now."

"Oh, do you think so? I don't feel cold."

"Icebergs probably don't feel the cold either, but I do!"

Jen's hastily stifled giggle and the flash of her dimple told him that she had understood exactly what he had meant, so he added in tones of spurious innocence, "From having lived in the tropics for so long, you know!"

"I know exactly what you mean, and I tell you that there's no truth or shame in you!"

"Well, maybe not _much_," he admitted.

His bland confession was too much for Jen, and she could not help bursting into a laugh, and with a smile on her face, wished him a good night as she stepped up into the Lexus and headed back to Cape May Avenue. He stood watching for some moments after she had driven out of sight and walked back to his own car, on his face a smile that had nothing of mockery in it.

Her amusement with his nonsense lasted long enough for her to rig the couch as a bed for Mattie, and to make her own preparations for bed, until she slid under the covers with a sigh of relief, and turning the light out, immediately fell asleep.


	18. 17 October 2007

**Wednesday 17 October 2007**

Jen's first action after finishing her morning routine was to 'phone the navy medical centre to enquire whether Mac was to be released from hospital, or whether she was to be kept on the ward for a further period. Reassured that Mac would be discharged that day, Jen was then able to consider her options for the day.

Firstly, as an absolute priority, she had to get Mattie to school, and she had a sneaky feeling that Mattie was going to give her a hard time over that decision. Then it was a matter of getting Mac home and then getting to work, if Mac was fit enough to be left on her own. If Mac could be left then she would have to arrange to check in on her at lunchtime and again after she had picked Mattie up from school. If Mac wasn't fit enough to be left on her own, then she would have to think again. She was torn between two choices; she could either ask for time off duty, or she could let Mattie stay at home, but although Mattie had, most of the time, a cool head, Jen wasn't too keen on the idea of leaving a mobility impaired teen to cope with what was bound to be an extremely irritated Marine Lieutenant Colonel, let alone to handle any further medical episodes that might arise. She resigned herself that today was just going to be one of those days. Her forebodings were soon realised.

"Mattie, I need you to get going. I have to drop you off at school before I pick up Mac from the hospital."

"Mac is definitely coming home today?" Mattie's face was an accurate reflection of the relief and pleasure she felt. She had not been entirely convinced that the adults involved had been telling her the whole truth about what was happening and what might happen to Mac.

"Yes, Mattie, I'm going to collect her as soon as I've cleared the school."

"Oh, I'm not going to school today. I'm staying home to look after Mac," Mattie responded in a careless, off-hand manner, as if it were the normal accepted practice.

"That's not going to happen, Mattie," Jen warned her firmly, and hoping that she was telling the truth added, "It won't be needed, the doctors wouldn't let her go if they thought she still needed looking after, and you can't afford to miss school; don't forget, you may need to take time out for the procedures on your back, and the more time you spend out, the more time you'll need to spend catching up. Remember you'll need good grades as well as a good SATs score if you're ever going to make it to Annapolis." Seeing the conflict on Mattie's face, Jen adopted a slightly more conciliatory tone, "look, Matts, I know it's tough, but do you think Mac would want you to risk your future just to hang around when you're not really needed? Besides," she added as another thought struck her and made her give a gurgle of laughter, "can you imagine the two of you cooped up all day, alone together, with Mac's grumpiness and your temper? I reckon by the end of the day you wouldn't be able to make up your mind between homicide and suicide!"

Mattie looked appalled, and for a moment Jen thought she was going to protest, and then Mattie's own sense of humour came to their rescue. "Oh, no... I hadn't thought of that! Jen, that would be... so uncool... and gross!" she added with a reluctant grin.

Breathing a silent sigh of relief over a battle so easily won, Jen smiled, and said, "OK, then let's get you into the car and on your way!"

Jen's next battle was far more difficult. Having dropped Mattie off at school and driven straight to the medical centre, she arrived at the Dalton ward to find a stand-off. Four nurses surrounded a fully-dressed Mac as she attempted to face down Tiffany Robins. "I am going home, Commander!"

"Not until you've given me an undertaking that you will go home, you will rest, and you will stay home for the seven day's hospital leave I've placed you on and that you will continue to take the medicines that I have prescribed for you, until you have finished the entire course of treatment!"

"I cannot afford to take seven day's leave, and sit on my six when we're short-handed at work!

"So hire extra help! You are either going home to rest, or you are getting straight back into bed!"

"Who do you think you are Commander? My mother?"

"No Colonel, but I am the doctor who will not release you, until I have your undertaking that you will obey orders!"

"Orders? You forget yourself doctor! We are the same grade, and I'm willing to bet that I have time in grade over you!"

"And I'll remind you, Lieutenant Colonel that I am the doctor, and you are my patient! That gives me the authority in this case, no matter how much time you have in grade!"

The two angry women faced each other, neither willing to give an inch. Jen coughed, somewhat nervously, "Ma'ams, may I make a suggestion?"

The two turned on her, "What?" they both demanded in unison.

"Why don't I take the Colonel home for today, and then starting tomorrow, if she's feeling up to it, I can take her in to work for the mornings, and she can take the afternoons off and rest up, and say we do that for two weeks?"

Mac's, "Petty Officer, that's not going to happen!" was nearly drowned out by Tiffany Robbins', "That's not satisfactory, Petty Officer!"

"Or," Jen added in a reflective tone, while rummaging in her purse, "I could always call Mrs Burnett, instead. I'm sure she'd love a chance to reorganise Pacific Avenue."

"No!" Came in almost a wail from Mac.

"Who?" was the surprised reaction from Doctor Robbins.

"Mrs Burnett," Jen replied to the Doctor, while ignoring Mac's protest, "the Colonel's mother-in-law."

Tiffany Robbins looked at the shock and outrage on Mac's face and the demurely innocent expression on Jen's and said in awed tones, but with her eyes shining with amusement, "That's a horrible thing to threaten anyone with. You're either the bravest, or the most evil Petty Officer I've ever met!"

Mac looked daggers at Jen, "Petty Officer, we _are_ going to speak about this later!"

"Ma'am, yes ma'am!" OK, it was a risk Jen thought, but at least she defused an embarrassing situation where two field grade officers had been squabbling in front of their juniors, and if Mac did want to ream her out for presumption, then if it was in private, and Mac to give her due credit, tended not to address infractions in public, Jen could perhaps get away by respectfully explaining her words. But as she thought further on the matter, it was not a bad idea to bring Trish Burnett down from La Jolla. From what she had gathered, Trish was fond of her daughter-in-law, so any friction would be minimal - and would probably come from Mac! Trish could also help in looking after Mattie and her presence at Pacific Avenue would reassure Harm. Mac might chafe a little, but the more Jen thought the more she wondered that nobody had thought of the idea earlier!

"OK Colonel," Dr Robbins interrupted Jen's thoughts, "What's it going to be? A week in bed at home, a week here in hospital or a week with your mother-in-law reorganising your home?"

"That's blackmail, Commander!"

"Yep, it sure is," agreed an unrepentant Tiffany Robbins.

"Alright," an unwilling Mac glowered, "I'll take the week's hospital leave! It's the least of the three evils!"

Safely installed in the Lexus, Mac sat fuming silently while Jen drove back towards Pacific Avenue. Jen kept her eyes on the road and waited for the storm to break. She did not have to wait long. "Petty Officer! In all your long history of insubordination, that was the most blatant piece of insubordination I have ever heard, even from you!"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Just what the hell did you mean by it? Are you deliberately trying to get yourself thrown into the brig?"

"No, ma'am!"

"'Yes, ma'am' and 'No ma'am,' doesn't cut it Petty Officer! I want an explanation! And I want it now!"

"Yes, ma'am. Permission to speak freely ma'am?"

"Humph! I suppose you're going to whether I give permission or not, aren't you?"

"Pretty much, ma'am."

"What are you doing, Coates?"

"I'm pulling over, ma'am, I don't like to talk while I'm driving, so just one second, please."

"I'm waiting, Petty Officer."

"Yes, ma'am. Ma'am, I intervened when I did, because the way it sounded to me, you and the doctor were about to hit the 'did not either', 'did too' level, and there were other, junior, officers around ma'am, so I figured that if I drew the heat, then the two of you might have time to take a breath before you beat down on each other again."

"Coates, have you finished your psychology degree yet?" Mac asked in an apparent sudden change of subject.

"No ma'am," a slightly surprised Jen responded.

"How much longer do you have to go, before you complete it?"

"At my present rate of progress, that would be about eighteen months, ma'am."

"H'mm, remind me to have fresh orders cut for you the minute, no, make that the second you finish that course."

"Yes, ma'am." And her curiosity piqued, Jen asked, "Why is that ma'am?"

"Because Petty Officer, without finishing your course, not only have you just very subtly bawled me out for conduct unbecoming, but you are getting too damn' good at handling people!" Mac suddenly laughed, and then winced as a reminder of the cramps gave her a nudge in her side.

"Ma'am, are you OK?" inquired a suddenly anxious Jen.

"Yes, I'm fine Coates, nothing to worry about; I just need to remember that it hurts when I laugh!"

"Well, ma'am," ventured a now thoroughly puzzled Jen, "may I suggest you don't laugh?"

"You may suggest all you like, but it was _your_ fault." And taking pity on the look of helpless confusion on Jen's face, Mac relented. "When I said you were getting too damn good at handling people, I remembered that Admiral Chegwidden said pretty much the same thing to you, at about the same time he accused you of parsing the truth like a lawyer!"

"Yes, ma'am, so he did!" agreed Jen with a smile, and checking her mirror moved the Lexus back into the traffic. "You know, ma'am, he was mostly bluster, but underneath, he was one of the good guys."

"You only say that because you were better at handling him than anyone else at JAG!" Mac disagreed, but with a smile of her own.

The tension dissipated the two drove on in silence, until Mac asked, "Whatever made you think of Trish Burnett?"

"Well ma'am, with Harm away you need someone to make sure you're OK, and the alternatives were to pull Mattie out of school until you're back on your feet, or leave it to me to try and shuttle run and change hats between your place and the office, and I didn't feel qualified to look after you properly, and I was trying to think of someone who could help, and then when you accused Doctor Robbins of being your mother, then Mrs Burnett's name just popped into my head."

Mac favoured her with a cynical look, which Jen found disturbingly similar to one of Miles Caldwell's habitual expressions and said dryly, "What you mean, Petty Officer, is that you were looking for a way out and that you wouldn't take that job for all the oil in Alaska!"

"Yes, ma'am," admitted Jen with aplomb.

Mac sighed and pulled her cell 'phone out of her purse, "Hi, Trish, it's Mac... Yeah, I'm good... but I could do with a bit of help for a few days..."

Jen smiled secretly to herself, yep, you sure could lead a horse to water, and if you were patient enough and the horse got thirsty enough, it would drink.

Mac finished her call to Harm's mother, and looked across at Jen, "Well, Trish says she'll be here by day's end, so that's relieved you of some pressure, Coates, so I hope you're feeling satisfied with yourself! Doctor Robbins was right, you are evil - and you're damn' devious too!" Mac reflected for a while and then continued, "Do you know, Petty Officer, that when I first saw Doctor Robbins, I dismissed her as a Barbie Doll, I never expected that she would have the brass to stand there and call my bluff to my face. I must be losing my grip. It's either that," she added darkly, "or my damn' hormones have started kicking in!"

Jen wisely decided to say nothing this time.

Getting Mac home and installing her in the lounge was the work of only a few minutes. Jen would have preferred the Colonel to have gone to her bedroom, but the tone of voice in which Mac had rejected the idea convinced Jen that she had pushed the envelope to just about as far as she could without seriously annoying her CO. Contenting herself with a reiteration of Mac's promise to abide by Doctor Robbins' instructions, Jen left Mac to her rest with assurances that she would collect Mattie from school and bring her home that afternoon.

Returning to the Naval Station, Jen found that the enhanced security measures were still in operation, and once again she was condemned to a lengthy wait until it was her turn to be subjected to the unsmiling scrutiny of armed Marines while they checked her ID as well as the interior and exterior of the Lexus.

After containing her impatience as best she could, Jen was finally allowed onto the base and drive to the JAG parking lot. The lack of her usual smile was noticed by the Marine sentry on the building as she entered, and he wondered what had got her so uptight.

It was a relieved Jen that finally reached her desk and was able to plunge directly into a takeover from Yates. She appraised what he had accomplished and was able to commend him for work well done, and for having the savvy to recognise what could be left for her to complete, either because it was still outside his training and experience, or because it was a low priority task that could wait until other more urgent jobs had been completed.

The takeover of her duties was interrupted by Commander Coleman who hearing voices in the outer office and recognising Jen's voice among them had left her temporary desk had come to find out what was happening with the CO, and to alert Jen to the imminent arrival of a new two-oh, who doubtless would be heavily reliant on the CO's Yeoman until she had read herself in to her new post. Lieutenant Graves she informed Jen was already en-route to Miramar to collect the new officer, a Commander McLellan.

"Do you know Commander McLellan, ma'am?" Jen asked.

"No, Coates, I don't. I know of her, though. If she's the woman I think she is, she used be called Austin before her marriage. She started out at Falls Church before being reassigned to the _Goshawk _as battle group JAG, since then she's been assigned to various staff JAG appointments in Europe with NATO, and most recently with the European Staff HQ JAG in Britain. It should be interesting seeing just how she and the Colonel get along..."

"How do you mean, ma'am?"

"What? Oh, nothing," Commander Coleman protested, guiltily realising she had said a little too much, "just the same old Navy and Marine thing, I mean we all work for the same boss ultimately, it's just the two organisations look at things slightly differently."

"Yes, ma'am," Jen acknowledged, although she harboured doubts that Commander Coleman was telling all that she knew.

The word that a new senior Jag was about to arrive had already been passed by HQ Scuttlebutt control, and everyone who could possibly find an excuse to be in or near the bull-pen by eleven-forty hours had congregated in its vicinity. Their curiosity was more than rewarded when Lieutenant Graves led not one, but two officers across to the CO's Offices. As they entered her area Jen sprang to her feet and eyed the newcomers with impassive curiosity the tall blonde officer in navy service dress with the three gold rings and the Mill-Rinds on her cuffs was obviously Commander McLellan, the male officer with her however, was wearing a uniform that Jen had never seen before.

He was wearing a dark khaki jacket with a pair of light blue wings on his right shoulder and a red and black patch on his left, above both of them was a curved ribbon which bore the word 'Commando' and pants with a lighter shade of khaki shirt and an even paler woven tie. His jacket buttons were as dark as any USMC officer's as were his collar badges which to Jen's eye resembled pineapples, his cover, held in his left hand seemed to be a green beret. Over his left shoulder and passing diagonally across his chest to under his right arm he wore a highly polished leather cross belt.

Both of these officers nodded in response to Jen's "Good morning ma'am, sir."

Lieutenant Graves waited for Jen's greeting before asking her, "Is Commander Coleman in the office, Petty Officer?"

"Yes, ma'am. One moment please. Crossing to the CO's door, she rapped on the doorjamb and waited for Commander Coleman's permission to enter. "Excuse me, ma'am, Commander McLellan has arrived."

"Thank you, Petty Officer, show her in, please."

Faith Coleman's voice was perfectly audible in the outer office, so Meg McLellan walked in past Jen, and gave her a smile of acknowledgement. Jen closed the door on the two senior JAGs and turned expectantly towards Lieutenant Graves.

"Petty Officer, this is Lieutenant Colonel McLellan, of the British Army; Colonel, Legalman Petty Officer First Class Coates, the CO's Yeoman."

"Sir, pleased to meet you," said Jen.

"Thank you Petty Officer

"Coates, would you please show the Colonel to the galley and see that he has everything he needs. Colonel, if you'll excuse me, I'll go and see about arranging you some quarters."

"If you'll come with me Colonel, I'll organise some coffee for you invited Jen, "or if you prefer I could mash some tea for you?"

"Thank you... Coates... is it?"

"Yes, sir, or Petty Officer, either will get my attention."

"Thank you then, Petty Officer. Tell me... where did you hear about mashing a brew?"

"The CO, I mean our real CO, Colonel MacKenzie, spent some time working with the Royal Navy and she picked up the expression along with a taste for the tea, she taught me how to mash a brew as well as the technical terms. So don't worry sir, we don't use tea bags around here!"

Colonel McLellan laughed, but not unkindly, at her earnest expression and thanked her for her concern. The galley reached, he said that he wasn't totally incapable of making a drinkable brew and suggested that he might be trusted not to scald himself or set fire to the building. Jen recognised a dismissal when she heard it, even if it was couched in courteous terms, and excused herself saying that if he needed any further help, she would be at her desk.

She had only made it half-way across the bull-pen when she heard Lieutenant Graves calling her name. Crossing towards her, Jen asked "Ma'am?"

"Coates, I still have the McLellans' bags in my car. Let me know when they're ready to leave, and I'll take them over to the VOQ. I've already spoken to allocations and I've managed to get the room assignments squared away. Unless Commander McLellan has been here before - and I forgot to ask - I guess I'm their guide until she gets settled."

"Ma'am, how long are they likely to be here for?"

"Well, as I understand it, Commander McLellan is here until the Colonel's finished her maternity leave, but Colonel McLellan is only here for a day or so. Officially he's on a liaison visit from the British Embassy in Washington, but I think he's just come along to see where his wife's going to be working."

A slightly bemused Jen resumed her seat muttering to herself, "Too many damned Colonels and Commanders in this often all of a sudden!" Jen busied herself about her work, ruefully acknowledging that she was going to have skip some lunches in order to make for the time she had already lost and the time that she was going to lose in ferrying Mattie to and from school. At least she would now be able to leave her to Trish Burnett's care, not that she begrudged the time she spent with Mattie, or even looking after Mac, but it was getting difficult to juggle her work with the extra-curricular activities that seemed to have crept up on her.

She was disturbed by Commander Coleman leaving the CO's office and saying to her, "Coates, Commander McLellan wants to talk with you."

Jen hastily smoothed down her uniform, and knocked on the doorjamb and waited to be told to enter. On doing so, she halted in front of the desk and stated, "Legalman Petty Officer First Class Coates, reporting as ordered, ma'am!"

The tall blonde woman behind the desk smiled and said, relax Petty Officer, take a seat. And waiting for Jen to obey, she said, Commander Coleman has given me a list of the key personnel in this office, and I see that she has put your name right at the top of the enlisted list. So, as I need to get to know the people I have working for me, and that as the Yeoman you will perhaps be working with the closest of all, I need to know more about you than I could get from just reading your service file.

"What do I say ma'am? I re-qualified from Electronics Tech to Legalman in '02, and after a spell in the _Seahawk_ as Legalman to Lieutenant Roberts, as he was then, I was due a change of assignment and got orders for Falls Church. After Lieutenant Tiner, Petty Officer Yeoman Tiner, then, left for ODS, I was appointed Yeoman to Admiral Chegwidden, and then when Colonel MacKenzie was ordered here to open this office I applied to come here with her. And that's me ma'am."

"Yes, but I could have got all that from your file, Petty Officer. But I understand that you have a closer than usual relationship with the Colonel and her family?"

"Well, ma'am it's a little bit difficult to explain. I am closer to Mattie than to the Colonel, but that's only because I helped Mr Rabb look after her before he and the Colonel married."

Meg McLellan looked blank, "I'm sorry Petty Officer, but you're losing me here, who is this Mattie?"

"Mattie is Harm's daughter..."

"His daughter! How old is she?"

"She's a couple of months shy of her eighteenth birthday ma'am."

"That's not possible, I knew Harm... Mr Rabb ten years ago, he never said anything to me about a daughter!"

"Oh, he didn't have her then, ma'am. He's not her real father..." and Jen went on to give an abbreviated history of her own and Harmon Rabb's involvement with Mattie Grace.

At the end of her history Meg McLellan shook her head in bewilderment. "Petty Officer, I just know that you have told me everything I asked to hear, and I heard the words, but I can't figure out the story. I pressed you on this is because I had heard that you spent a considerable amount of time away from your desk assisting the Colonel with her life, and I couldn't figure out how you and your CO meshed like that, but I guess I should have known. There's two words that really explain it all, Harmon..."

"Rabb, ma'am!" Jen interrupted, and then flushing guiltily she said, "I'm sorry ma'am, that's a bad habit of mine, finishing other people's sentences. Admiral Chegwidden tried to break me of it, General Cresswell tried, and so did Mac... er I mean Colonel MacKenzie, ma'am!"

"I guess old habits die hard, Petty Officer?"

"Yes, ma'am, especially the bad ones," added Jen apologetically.

"OK, then Petty Officer, let's try and establish some sort of working relationship while I'm here. I drink my coffee black, and I like it piping hot, so I don't want to come in the mornings and find a warm cup of coffee waiting for me. I would far sooner wait and get it fresh. I don't like people entering the office until I tell them to; I understand Colonel MacKenzie operated the other way round, and that you used to wait ten seconds and if she didn't say no, then you came in, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"OK, now that's squared away, I don't want to interfere with any arrangements you have made with Colonel MacKenzie; I understand that you have been spending a lot of time driving for her?"

"Yes, ma'am, but I'm hoping that today will be the last day for a while. The Colonel's mother-in-law is coming down to keep her company until she's back on her feet, and I'm hoping that Mrs Burnett can take over the driving duties. I don't mind doing it, ma'am, it's just that with the added on-base security it's taking me longer than it should and my routine work is beginning to pile up, and although Yates is good, he doesn't have the experience to work as quickly as I can nor to make the sort of decisions that I have to make every day, ma'am. But, ma'am, I am committed to picking up Mattie from school today."

"Very well, Petty Officer, if the commitment is made, it's made. What time will you need to secure?"

"Ma'am, I've gotten in the way of not taking a lunch break, and working through until fifteen hundred, and then handing my desk over to Yates, so I can secure at fifteen-fifteen. And as I say ma'am, I hope that this will be my last day having to do this."

"Alright then Petty Officer, make a copy of this list, and return the original to me. Then pull the first ten jackets on the list and bring them to me. And I'll want to see Lieutenants Grant, Walker and Tiner this afternoon. I'll see them in that order, starting at thirteen-hundred. Please pass the word,"

"Aye, aye, ma'am."

"Was there something else, Petty Officer?"

"Yes, ma'am. The Colonel, your husband, he's still in the galley, ma'am."

"Yes, he is isn't he? Please make arrangements to get him access to a phone and a copy of the local yellow pages. If you'll just point out the galley for me, I'll go see him and tell him he can make himself useful."

"Yes, ma'am!"

The task of picking up Mattie from school and dropping her off at Pacific Avenue had taken far longer than Jen had hoped. Firstly Jen had had to persuade Sam Martin to drive her old Ford to Pacific Avenue, while she collected Mattie from school and brought her home. On their arrival at the Colonel's house they found that Trish Burnett had not only arrived, but had invited Sam Martin and Duke Wayne in for coffee, while they were waiting to hand over the Escort to Jen. Sam explained that he'd had Duke follow him to Pacific Avenue so that he could be driven back to JSLT to collect his own car from the parking lot. Jen had hardly noticed Duke's unexpected addition to the party and by that time wouldn't have cared if the whole of the bull-pen had been there. Mattie had insisted that she come in and renew her acquaintance with Trish Burnett and while she'd needed to speak with Mattie, Mac and Trish to ensure that she could leave the task of ferrying Mattie back and forth to school to Trish, that had meant spending time drinking a cup of coffee and being polite for half an hour, when all she wanted to do was get home, have a soak in the bath, and collapse in front the TV for the evening until it was time for bed.

At some stage during the drive back to Ocean Beach Jen decided that for the second night in a row she couldn't be bothered to cook, so pulling over to the side of the road, she called home to see if Fran was up to cooking but the only answer she got was their pre-recorded message saying that they were temporarily unable to come to the phone. A quick mental calculation told Jen that she had just about enough cash in her purse for a light meal and a soda at the Third Corner.

Her omelette, salad and soda ordered, Jen sat back in the warmth of the afternoon sun, content to wait until her meal arrived. The omelette was hot and fluffy, the salad crisp and slightly sweet and the soda cold. All in all it should have been a meal that Jen enjoyed, but it might have been a cold MRE for the flavour and texture she found in it. At last having eaten no more than half, she pushed her plate aside and wondered why she had little appetite and why she felt so discontented. Nothing had changed overmuch in the last forty-eight hours, but she had been feeling unsettled since the evening of her argument with Mattie. Yet that wasn't the problem either. She and Mattie had had their ups and downs over the nearly three years they had known each other, but no disagreement they'd had ever left her feeling as she did now. And why, dammit, had she been so dumb as to spend her last few cash dollars on a meal she hadn't wanted when there were still five days left until her next pay-cheque? She only hoped that there was enough gas left in the Escort to get her to and from work until she cashed that cheque.

Still trying to work out the cause of her bleak mood, Jen returned home, and on entering the apartment saw that Fran's 'Do Not Disturb' sign was hanging from her door handle. That, Jen reflected, explained the lack of response to the telephone. Investigating the fridge, Jen discovered an opened bottle of Muscadet and pouring a glass carried it in to the bathroom, where she drew a full bath liberally sprinkled with bath salts, and stripping off her crumpled uniform and twisting her hair into a top-knot eased herself into the scented steaming water. A half hour soak and the glass of wine did wonders for Jen's sense of well-being, and as she climbed out the bath she reflected that if hot water and a cold wine were so effective, half the spas in the States would go out of business if only more people had the wit to recognise the fact; half laughing at the conceit, Jen pulled on her pyjamas and slid into bed. It was still too early to consider sleeping, but Mac's mention of her course had touched a guilty chord, she had missed last week's class, and was thoroughly unprepared for tomorrow evening's session. Fortunately she'd downloaded the whole semester's study plan, so reaching for her text books she found the appropriate section on case study research and started reading. However, despite her best efforts the meaning of the words on the page eluded her. Frowning with concentration she realised after half-an hour's fruitless study that she had just read the same short paragraph four times without it making a scrap of sense. With a snort of impatience, she closed the book and pulling the covers up to her shoulders willed herself to sleep.


	19. 18 October 2007

**Thursday 18 October 2007**

Jen still felt unsettled the following morning and even her run failed to improve her mood, but it wasn't until she saw the shocked expression on Fran's face that she realised that she had just snapped at her best friend for doing no more than saying good morning to her, that she realised just how ill-tempered she was. Her shamefaced apology was accepted by her room-mate, but it was still with a feeling of embarrassment over her behaviour that Jen, almost with a feeling of escape, fled the apartment and drove to work. Her early departure spared her from having to wait in line for the security check at the main gate and on arrival at the parking lot she was unsurprised to see that she seemed to be the first to arrive. Her unsmiling presentation of her ID to the Marine Sentry was so untypical of her normal behaviour, that it was noticed by Corporal Kirk, who said to his buddy, Lance Corporal Waskorowicz, that if he was married to the Petty Officer, then he'd be heading for the tall timber, just about right now!

Jen placed her cover in her desk drawer and made or the galley to make a pot of coffee but was surprised when she got there to find a fresh, hot brew already made. The bull-pen was empty, and none of the attorneys were in their offices, a check on the conference room and the law library confirmed they too were uninhabited, as incredible as it seemed, there was only one alternative. Knocking on the CO's doorjamb she received permission to enter. Jen approached the desk and halting in front of it, said, "Good morning ma'am, is there anything I can do for you before I turn to?"

Meg McLellan smiled, "Good morning Petty Officer, no thank you, I've got my coffee already, but you can take these away please, and bring me the next ten jackets on the list."

"Aye, aye, ma'am!"

The fresh files delivered to the Commander, Jen started on her own work for the morning. As she worked her mood started to lighten. Maybe she had been suffering from a guilty conscience because she had been neglecting her job, if so, then she would have to strike a better balance between her own tasks and looking after Harm's family. Her fingers froze on the keyboard; what had she just said to herself? Oh, my God, _that_ was the trouble; she wasn't looking after Mac and Mattie, she was looking after Harm's family. She was surprised by the flash of anger she felt. It wasn't her job to look after a love-sick teenager, not since Harm had married Mac, and it was the damn' husband's job, and not her Yeoman's, to look after his pregnant wife! Jen considered her position, and thinking back on yesterday's conversation with Commander McLellan she felt uneasy. It was clear that the Commander thought her relationship with Mac was unusual to say the least and that maybe she had been led astray from her navy responsibilities and had been getting sucked in to the Rabb family dynamic to the detriment of her career. Jen knew that her promotion to Chief depended heavily on her next fitness report and performance evaluation, and Mac had already put her on notice after her run-in with Lieutenant Simms. OK, if that was the case it was time to get her head down and concentrate on work! Her concentration was disrupted less than an hour later by the phone on her desk. Jen sighed, it was always the damn' same, every time she got stuck into a job she was either summoned away by an officer or the damn' phone started ringing off the hook!

"JAG, Joint Service Legal Team, Petty Officer Coates, sir!"

"Jennifer, good morning, it's Miles Caldwell."

"Mr Caldwell!" Jen was, to say the very least, surprised, "How did you get this number?"

"I have friends in strange places, Long Branch for one and Pacific Avenue for another; Linda Graham and your young friend Mattie."

"I'm sorry Mr Caldwell," replied a furiously blushing Jen, "I can't take personal calls on this line."

"Oh, well, I'll call you on your cell 'phone, it's just that calling this number costs less, you see and I have to watch every penny if I'm to take you out to dinner this evening," he said carelessly, as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

"Who said you were taking me out to dinner?" Jen challenged indignantly.

"Why, I just did," he said calmly, "Didn't you hear me?" he questioned with a note of surprise in his voice.

"Yes, I heard you, but..." Jen was on the very edge of refusing to accept his crassly worded invitation, when she reconsidered. Hadn't she just been saying to herself that she needed to put distance between herself and her involvement with Harm and his family? Besides Miles' way of expressing his sense of the ridiculous might help in lifting her out of her gloomy mood.

"But you're washing your hair, this evening?" Miles Caldwell's voice was decidedly cynical.

"No... I was just about to say, that yes, I'd like to have dinner with you," to her surprise Jen found herself meaning what she had just said, "but I have a psych class this evening from seven until nine at USC SD..."

"Fine, I'll change the reservation to nine-forty-five. Where shall I pick you up?" Although his tone was pleasant and detachedly friendly, Jen had the feeling that he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Oh, there's no arguing with you, is there? Do you know the George Walker building on Campus?"

"No to your first and yes to your second." Jen had half been expecting to hear a note of triumph, or at least of satisfaction in his voice at her acceptance of his terms, but Miles remained matter-of-fact, as though, she thought, he had foreseen exactly how the conversation would run.

"I shan't have the time to dress for dinner," she warned him, "you'll have to take me as you find me, bag of books included!"

"I'll survive... probably," he replied coolly, "until this evening, then, goodbye."

Jen replaced the handset in its cradle. Once again Miles Caldwell had brought her to the point where she didn't know how she was supposed to react to him. On the one hand, she felt a tingle of anticipation at what she ruefully admitted would be her first date in many long months, but she was also irritated by his calm assumption that she would accept his invitation. For a few moments, she was tempted by the thought of returning his call and telling that she had decided to wash her hair after all! She resigned herself to having dinner with him on the grounds that as far as she was concerned it wasn't really a date, it was more of a business meeting where she hoped to induce him to apply pressure on his despicable nephew and get him to back off from Mattie Grace!

Trish Burnett carried the cordless 'phone up to Mac's bedroom where her undutiful daughter-in-law had retired to sulk after Trish had banned her from the kitchen. Trish was becoming seriously concerned for Mac's well-being. She had heard her pacing the floor last night, and earlier today she had also heard the sounds of a prolonged bout of morning-sickness. It was Mac's facial greyness added to the slight sheen of sweat on her forehead that had prompted Trish to banish her from the kitchen to rest in the lounge. Instead Mac had muttered something to the effect that if she was going to be treated like a damn' invalid then she would damn' well behave like one! Mac admitted, if only to herself, that she was feeling far from well. During the night she had suffered a further attack of stomach cramps, and although, thanks to her medication, they were less severe and less alarming than the initial episode, they had still been severe enough to cause her to get up out of bed and try to walk them off. Her nausea this morning had been especially distressing, particularly as for the last couple of days her symptoms had been less apparent and she had hoped that the less debilitating attacks had marked the beginning of the end of this stage of her pregnancy.

Harm had kept his word, and had called her each evening and she had been comforted by his calls and his expressions of love and his assurances that he missed her, and that he couldn't wait to get home. Last night he had suggested calling his mother to come and help out in Pacific Avenue, and his relief at hearing that Trish had not only already been asked, but had also arrived was almost palpable. Knowing that despite how much Mac loved Trish, she was normally opposed to any mother-in-law interference in her home, he had asked her what had made her overcome her objections, and on being told simply, "Jennifer Coates!" he smiled and once again wondered where he and his family would be without the help of such a good, reliable friend as Jennifer had always proved herself to be. Vowing that he would find some way of marking his appreciation for her help this time, he turned the conversation with Mac back towards more intimate topics. Remembering the last few minutes of their talk, Mac smiled to herself and holding on to the inner warmth generated by those memories, she was able to greet Trish's knock on her bedroom door with a fair degree of amiability.

The 'phone call was from Tony Cameron, who apologised for the delay in getting in touch, but he'd had to wait to confirm with the Chief of Diagnostic Medicine that he would be able to schedule a _pro-bono_ MRI for Mattie. He was now happy to say that the scan had been arranged for tomorrow evening and he would expect to meet Mattie at Hillcrest main reception in the hospital lobby at six in the evening, and he looked forward to seeing Mac at the same time. Mac thanked him at least three times and promised she would be there with Mattie on time.

Trish who had been an interested listener stood at the foot of Mac's bed and with arms folded she looked at her daughter-in-law and said, "And just where and when do you think that you and Mattie are going?"

Mac mentally girded her loins for the coming fight but said in a reasonable tone of voice, "Mattie has a scan scheduled for tomorrow evening at Hillcrest, so I'll be taking her to the hospital."

"I wouldn't place any money on that, if I were you, Sarah."

Mac sat upright in bed and copying Trish's folded arms position she said in her best command voice, "Trish, I shall be taking Mattie to the hospital tomorrow evening, is that understood?"

"No, it is not understood. Far from it, and don't think you can order me around, young lady; I am not in your navy - and even if I were, I'd have seniority anyway!"

The two of them glowered at each other until Mac was reminded of the similar stand-off she'd had with Tiffany Robbins only just twenty-four hours ago, and she giggled.

An offended Trish demanded to know just what was so funny.

Mac wiped her streaming eyes, and said, "Oh, come and sit down, Trish, it really is all too funny for words, but I'll try to explain..."

By the end of Mac's description of the argument in the hospital and Jen's intervention, Trish too was giggling. "Oh, my," she gasped, "did young Jennifer really say that to you? And that was why you called me?"

"No, not at all," replied Mac, "I only called you after she said she wouldn't want the job of looking after me, not for all the oil in Alaska! So you see, you were my last resort!"

"Your Jennifer sounds like a young lady of remarkable common sense," Trish was still chuckling, "and certainly she seems very much attached to you, otherwise she wouldn't risk making you so angry. She's helped you out before, if you don't trust me to look after Mattie, cannot Jennifer take Mattie to this doctor thing instead?"

Mac looked down and plucked at the coverlet with one hand. "Trish, I don't want to ask her to do any more for us for a good while. Jennifer Coates is a very attractive young woman, in her prime dating years. Since I've known her, that's about three, maybe four years, I don't think she's had a serious date. She's joined in when there's been an office-based social occasion, but she doesn't seem to have many friends, although she is very supportive of the few friends she does have. She should be out having fun and meeting the man whom she'll marry and who will be the father of her children. I know she's sincerely attached to Mattie, but she's maybe too attached for her own good; she certainly shouldn't be acting as an unpaid nurse, chauffeuse and childminder just to suit my and Harm's convenience. She was an enormous help to Harm and Mattie after the crash and we... well, we have been guilty of taking her for granted; if we need her all we have had to do is whisper, and she came running. She's already wasted three years doing just that but she doesn't need to make the same mistake that Harm and I made - we wasted far too much time dancing around that dumbass 'us' question, when we didn't need to. Maybe if we'd married five, six years ago, my body wouldn't be in such a hell of a mess now, and we'd have already given you a couple of grand-children

"Yes, I see," Trish agreed thoughtfully. "But you know, if you and Harm weren't ready for each other all those years ago, what makes you think that a marriage could have worked at that time? But stop trying to deflect and let's get back to brass tacks, I could take Mattie to the hospital in your place. If it's just for an MRI scan, it wouldn't take me away from you for very long."

"Trish, there are two things militating against that idea. First, I asked you to come down to help me in the house, not to drive all over San Diego and then spend hours sitting around in a hospital waiting area. Second, do you really think I could rest at home while Mattie is with the doctor?"

"Sarah, dear, you must be sicker than I thought; your lawyering skills are deserting you. You need to decide one way or the other; is it a simple quick procedure or is it a long-drawn-out process that's going to keep me waiting around a hospital for hours?"

Mac cast Trish a darkling look from under brows. She must have been out of the courtroom for too damn' long if her mother-in-law was finding such huge gaps in her reasoning! "Alright, if you must have it; I don't think that Mattie will be too long, maybe about twenty minutes for the scan and say maybe another half hour for the images to be looked at and decisions made. It's those decisions that I need to be there for. If the doctors say there's a chance that surgery will help Mattie then i need to be able to tell Harm exactly what was said. If they say that it's hopeless then I want, no, then I _need_ to be there for Mattie. Not a half-hour later when she gets home, but right there, right at that second. Trish, Mattie has put so much hope into this that she will need me if it all goes south; not as much as she'll want Harm, but as he's still stuck in DC..."

"Alright then dear, I'll take both of you, that way you can rest in the car and in the waiting area, and you can be there if Mattie needs you. And I," she finished brightly, "can be there for you!"

Mac smiled at her, "Trish, there are times I wonder how Harm came to be so devious and manipulative. Then I look at you and I remember..."

"Sarah MacKenzie, I do believe that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me!"

Fortunately for Jen, her mind half-occupied with speculation about her coming dinner-date, the rest of her working day passed without any extraordinary demands. Commander McLellan, except for asking for two further tranches of personnel files was, so far, undemanding but as Jen knew, it was early days yet. The Commander had read and signed, without commenting, the reports Jen had placed in her in-box, and to a great extent managed her own 'phone calls using her direct line rather than ask Jen to make connections for her. Jen's day had gone so well, that by the time she secured from work at seventeen-hundred hours, not only had she cleared everything that had come across her desk during the day, but had also made a considerable dent in the backlog of work that had been accumulating over the previous few days.

Abandoning for the moment thoughts of the evening ahead, Jen drove home, and when she reached the apartment, made a hamd and coleslaw sandwich and poured a glass of mineral water while she changed out of uniform and into blouse and slacks ready for her class. She was expecting a rough time. Not only had she missed classes, but she wasn't really prepared for this evening. Fortunately Doctor Lyman, the class tutor had long accepted that her working students must at times, for reasons beyond their control miss some classes. She only became seriously annoyed if it became a habit. Beyond remarking that Jen needed to catch up and submit her missed assignments by the end of the semester, she made no further comments and a much relieved Jen took her seat in the class, firmly resolving not to fall any further behind.

Class over, Jen made her way to the building's main door and stood at the top of the flight of steps waiting for... she suddenly realised that she didn't know what sort of car Miles drove. Although she had no idea of what to expect, she was still surprised when Miles hailed her from the driver's seat of an open-topped Mercedes coupé. Raising her eyebrows in appreciation, but privately thinking that the rental of such a car must be astronomically high and wondering if he could really afford such a price, Jen gave Miles a casual greeting and slid into the passenger seat and as she sat became conscious of the unmistakable feel and smell of leather-covered upholstery.

Smiling at the look of appreciation on her face, Miles asked, "All set? Good!" then let out the clutch and drove down the campus road towards the main gates and the city. The twin exhausts made a soft burbling as he kept to the on-campus speed limit, but growled into more vigorous life as he swung out into traffic and increased the pressure on throttle. With one hand trying to prevent her hair from being blown into a rat's nest by the wind of their passage, Jen had to almost shout to make herself heard, "Where are we going?" she cried.

"Romano's" Miles grinned at her.

This was plunging pretty deep, Jen thought, the rental on a top of the line sports car and dinner at Romano's, one of San Diego's priciest informal restaurants would leave her very little out of a month's pay, but if Miles thought he could afford an occasional grand gesture, as his guest, she could hardly say anything, although her restraint was more for her self-respect, Miles with his quirky view on the norms of behaviour probably wouldn't give a damn what she said. She only hoped that paying the check at the end of the meal wouldn't involve hours of sweaty and steamy labour in the restaurant kitchen!

On reaching their destination, Miles tossed the keys to a waiting valet, who to Jen's surprise caught them with a cheery, "Thanks, Mr Caldwell!" and on entering the restaurant, instead of having to wait for the maitre d'hôtel's attention, that personage left his station and opening the velvet covered guard-ropes and came forward to meet them, "Good evening, Signor Caldwell, your table, she is ready for you, sir!"

Jen and Miles took their seat and a table set for two and placed in a semi-private alcove away from both the entrance and the service door to the kitchen, its location making it seem that their table was in what was almost a private dining room. No sooner were they seated when the sommelier approached, and after a casual glance through the wine-list, Miles asked her, "You don't object to my choosing? Good!" and without any hesitation placed their order.

The head waiter was not quite so summarily dismissed; he brought their menus and hovered with pad and pencil ready to take their orders. "Have you dined here before Jennifer?" Miles asked.

"No, but you seem to be quite at home," she replied.

"Yes, I like it here," he said looking around, with the amusement plain in his pale eyes. "The food's good, the wines are better, the atmosphere is good and the staff are excellent. Yes, I like to eat here once in a while when I'm in San Diego."

"The staff are good, if they recognise a once in the while customer so quickly and easily," Jen retorted, for some reason feeling slightly insulted by his casual air. From all the reports she had heard Romano's was not the sort of place where head waiters, sommeliers and the maitre d'hôtel fell over themselves to lavish attention on occasional customers.

Miles smiled with that teasing mocking smile in his eyes and advised Jen that he was opting for the gazpacho followed by the chef's special pasta and a salad. Unfamiliar with the Italian terms on the menu, Jen reluctantly admitted that she would follow his lead.

Miles smiled, he had recognised that Jen had taken umbrage and even had a fair idea of what had twisted her tail. "Regretting that you agreed to meet me this evening?" He asked her in his most innocent voice, as the waiter brought their soups to the table.

Jen shot him a suspicious look from across the table, suspecting that he was still mocking her. The hint of a smile in his eyes when contrasted with his spurious mildly interested expression was all the confirmation she needed to confirm her suspicions.

"Yes," she agreed mournfully, "I should have accepted that other invitation from Stephen Lewis, his mother holds a bridge party once a week and tonight's the night."

"What, you don't mean that idiot who was paying you way over the top compliments at the opera do you?" He asked her in cynical astonishment.

"Stephen Lewis is a very well respected and respectable young man..." began Jen severely, but fighting to hold back a giggle at Miles' expression of honest surprise. An expression that she knew was deliberately assumed rather than an accurate reflection of his thoughts.

"Yes, I daresay he is, I feel sorry for the poor schmuck," Miles answered with insincerity dripping from every syllable.

"He may be a 'poor schmuck'," Jen responded with spirit, "but that's much better than being diabolical!"

"No, do you think so? Was that a dig at me or at Stacy, by the way?"

"No, it was a dig at you." Jen said frankly, "I don't think Stacy is diabolical at all. I don't think he's got the ba… I don't think he's got the guts to be that honestly bad. I was sickened by his hypocrisy on our bike ride and if you had heard him on the return leg of our bike ride back you'd have been sickened too!"

"Very likely. But the wonder of it all is that your Mattie seems not to be at all sickened."

"True, but she is in some ways very young for her age, and at the same time," Jen said trying to puzzle out how to put into words what she knew and felt about Mattie, "she's also very mature. Her accident caused her to grow up and face some of life's unpleasant tricks, but it also took her out of school life at a time when she should have been dating boys and learning how to handle her feelings. As it is, the only boys she's really come into contact with are those in her school and her friends' brothers!"

"Why get so het up about it Jennifer? She'll get over this thing with Stacy."

"Yes, she would if he could be taken out of her sight, to somewhere he couldn't get in touch with her."

"Or if she were to be sent somewhere where she couldn't contact him?" he suggested.

Jen frowned for a moment and sighed, "I don't think it could be done, at least not without a great deal of disruption. Mattie's medical history is all here, Mac's career is here, Harm has only just started his civilian career. And even if they did take her some place, with the internet and e-mails and cell 'phones, how could they possibly stop her from contacting him if she wanted to, and as things are she definitely would?" She added, "That sort of decision isn't mine to make though, but I would support any move that Harm or Mac made to separate them. Oh, she'd resent me, but I think she already does for interfering, but for so long I used to think that I had some influence over her, but in these last couple of weeks, it's all gone to hell! I just wish that something could make her see him in his true colours. It would hurt her for a while, but she wouldn't let it show. She's got too much damn' pride for that!"

"Yes, that's one possible outcome, but had you thought that my nephew might just have a rival?"

"Who?"

"Robert Graham."

"Robert? No, I don't think so. She says he's like a brother to her, and even if he has got some feelings towards her, he's done nothing about it!"

"Well, if you think it's nothing to send her a string of e-mails full of riddles and jokes to set her giggling and to do internet searches to track down obscure verses by even more obscure poets in the pretence of helping her with her English Lit classes, you must be almost as naïve as she is!"

"Is that what he's doing?" She could not help laughing, "I just thought they were some of his favourites, he seems to know them very well."

"So would you if you made it your business to study them!"

"Poor boy! But even if Mattie did prefer him to Stacy, it still wouldn't do."

The appearance of the pasta and salad forced a discreet silence while the waiter busied himself setting their places.

"Why won't Robert do for your Mattie?" Miles inquired after the waiter had retreated.

"Well, look at the boy; you know he's got just about as many prospects as your damn' nephew!"

"I know nothing of the sort. Young Robert Graham is likely to become one of the biggest movers and shakers in this city, and maybe the whole damn' state! You're forgetting who his uncle is!"

"Robert thinks he's blown that chance; that he's let his uncle down!"

"Disappointed his uncle? Not a chance! Downing thinks the world of Robert; he knows exactly how much that young man accomplished in Paraguay and is holding a junior partnership open for him as soon as he's fit enough to get back to work!"

"Oh, I am happy for Robert! But it still wouldn't work out with Mattie. Yes, I'd be glad if she did fall in love with him, although she is far too young for marriage to anyone, but unless her precious Stacy can be got rid of, there's no chance of that!"

"Do you know," he said conversationally, "if you're going to talk of nothing but your ridiculous lovesick teenager and my despicable nephew, I think I _shall_ be sick!"

"Excuse me! Jennifer gasped, "Of all the horribly rude things to say!"

"If it comes to that, what a horribly boring thing to talk about!"

"To me, it's very important!"

"Well, yes, but not to me."

"Well, if you didn't want to talk about what you know I'm concerned with, why did you invite me out?"

"Jennifer, look at me."

There was something in his voice that almost forced her eyes to meet his, and for once she could see no hint of teasing in his face. "I thought the other evening at Third Corner, that you were looking pale and tired. And you still are; you need a break Jennifer. I have to go out of town for a couple of days. I was going to go tomorrow, but I've had to put it off until Friday; come away for the weekend with me."

Jen looked at him in amazement, this was, as far as it could be counted, a first date, and he was propositioning her. The angry colour rose in her face, but before she could speak, he held up his hand. "That could have been phrased better, I'm sorry. There are no strings attached, separate rooms, even separate hotels if you want."

The colour faded from Jen's cheeks, and she said a little shakily, "No, thank you. I couldn't. It's very kind of you to offer like that, but I couldn't accept, not when I don't…"

"It's alright Jennifer; you don't owe me any explanations. I invited, you declined. But if you change your mind, let me know. Robert Graham has my number."

"Th… Thank you, Miles," she replied still somewhat shaken by the unexpected turn the conversation had taken, "but if you don't mind, I'd like to be taken back to my car now, please."

"Of course."

He waited until she had gathered herself together and then signalled for his car to be brought to the restaurant entrance. He opened the passenger side door for her and waited until she had settled herself into the Mercedes before he closed the door and walked round to the driver's side and took his seat behind the wheel.

The drive back to the campus parking lot where Jen had left her car was accomplished in silence. Jen was berating herself for handling the situation badly - It was not, after all, the first time she had been propositioned - while Miles seemed totally unconcerned as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Stopping the Mercedes next to Jen's Escort, Miles once again stepped out of the car and opened Jen's door for her. As she stumbled through saying good night and thank you, he gently grasped her shoulders, and Jen rigid with disbelief braced herself for what she dreaded was coming. Instead, she was relieved when his lips lightly brushed her cheek, and he said, "I meant what I said Jennifer, if you do change your mind, you're very welcome to come away with me, no strings attached."

Jen got into her car, her mind in a whirl. Starting the engine she peeled out of the parking lot and headed for the safety and shelter of Cape May Avenue. Miles Caldwell stood in the darkness of the parking lot and watched and waited until her tail lights vanished into the darkness.

Fran was sitting on the couch watching television when Jen returned home, and seeing Jen's bag of books slung over her shoulder said "You're late?"

"H'mm," murmured Jen still concentrating on what had been said at Romano's, as she crossed the lounge towards her bedroom. Fran regarded her friend curiously, Jen had been acting strange these last few days; this morning for example, all Fran had said was good morning, and Jen had been really short with her, almost bad-tempered, and Jen was usually one of the most cheerful people she had ever known, and now she had almost ignored Fran's comment.

"Don't slip on the pavement," she said, trying to provoke some sort of response.

"No, no, I won't, don't worry," Jen replied.

Fran stared at her open-mouthed; Jen was obviously operating on auto-pilot. Fran thumbed the remote, switching off the television, "Jennifer Coates," she put a lot of snap into the name, "You come right here this very second and talk to me!"

Jen turned at that, Fran never called her 'Jennifer', unless she was seriously ticked off at her.

"Something wrong, Fran?" she wondered.

"Yes, there is something wrong. You are. Come here and talk to me Jen. You're starting to scare me."

Jen looked at her friend blankly. How was she starting to scare Fran? She'd apologised for snarling at her this morning. What was her problem? She stopped that train of thought as she realised that Fran was on the verge of making her angry, and Fran had done nothing to deserve such a reaction. She sighed and throwing her books through the open door onto her bed, she turned round and sat down in her favourite arm chair. Jen sighed, "I'm sorry Fran, I don't mean to scare you, it's just..." she shrugged, at a loss to even try and explain her feelings.

"Just what, Jen?" Fran tried a touch of gentle encouragement.

"I don't know, I just honestly don't know... I've been feeling... strange these last few days... One minute I'm fine, the next minute I want to cry, and then I want to rip somebody's head off - like I nearly did to you this morning! No... please don't laugh Fran... Sometimes I feel like I hate everybody, even Mattie, and you know how much I love her... and then tonight..."

"What happened tonight Jen?" Fran was now really concerned for friend. Jen had always been the one person she knew who had inner balance; she had always been able to shrug off the sticks and stones that life threw at her and keep her cool, this new facet of Jen was more than just slightly strange.

"I had a dinner date tonight," Jen began.

"Jen, but that's good! It's the first date you've been on in ages..." Fran enthused, "And who was it? Do I know him?"

"No," Jen answered, "no you don't, or at least I don't think you do. It was Stacy Caldwell's uncle, Miles."

"Mattie's Stacy?" Fran was openly incredulous, but then as a thought struck her, "It went bad on you?" she enquired sympathetically.

"No... not exactly..."

"Well, what then?"

"He asked me to go away with him for the weekend." Jen said in flat voice.

"He... he did what?" Fran's question was half an exclamation of disbelief, "but it was your first date! What was he thinking? Or," she paused, searching her friend's face, "Was it your first date?"

"Well, yes, it was our first _date_, but we've seen each other around, oh, three or four times, and we've talked about him helping Mattie."

"Well it was still pretty brassy of him to..."

"No, that's just it Fran. He said no strings, that we would have separate rooms, we could even have separate hotels, if I wanted..." again she let her voice fade into silence.

"Did you believe him?"

"Yes."

"Well if you liked him enough to go on a date with him - where did he take you for dinner, anyhow?"

"Oh, we went to Romano's"

"Romano's! Jen - that's hugely expensive!"

"Yes, I know..." but it appeared to Fran that Jen didn't know; rather it almost seemed as if she was in shock.

"But if you went to Romano's with him and he said you could have a separate hotel, why not take him up on his invitation?"

"I like him enough to have dinner with him. But I don't know whether I like him enough to sleep with him."

"But... but... but he said separate rooms, no strings."

"Yeah, but it seems wrong to me."

"Do you want to sleep with him?"

"Yes... no... I don't know. I just don't know, and that's the problem. Fran, I don't sleep around, I don't have casual sex, I don't do one-night stands; if I go to bed with somebody it's because I'm in a relationship with them. I don't have a relationship with Miles, I don't know if I _want_ a relationship with Miles. I don't think I'm in love with him. Sometimes, I'm not even sure that I like him! I don't feel that I can just go away with somebody who I don't know that I want to go to bed with, even if it's not going to happen. It would be like taking advantage of him, leading him on even... It just seems wrong."

"OK... Do you really know what disturbs me about that, is that I think I understand you... so, that more or less explains this evening, I think... but I've noticed it these last couple of days, even Tim has noticed it, and you've admitted that you're not feeling right. And you look tired and sort of transparent, kinda grey-looking. What _is_ wrong, Jen?"

"I don't know, Fran," Jen answered in a tired voice, "I just don't know. I feel fine if I'm busy, but when I stop occupying my brain, I just feel angry... I even found myself hating Harm for not being here to look after Mattie, for not being here to look after Mac, and I think I may be spending too much time looking after them and not doing my job, and my promotion depends on my next fitrep, and then I feel guilty 'cause I'm being selfish, when I know they need my help, and..."

Fran had been charged with delivering a message from Mattie to Jen, asking that Jen should call her, but after hearing what she'd had to say on the subject of Mac and Mattie, Fran decided that she would conveniently forget that Mattie had called, and knowing that Jen switched off her cell 'phone at college, hoped that she had neither switched it on after leaving class, nor checked for missed calls, voice mail or text messages.

"Look Jen, you've had a pretty rough couple of weeks since you got back from your Chief's course; you've had to read yourself back in, then I got sick, and then the Colonel and there's all this crap with Mattie. Honest, Jen, I love her too, but I could so just slap her at times, I don't care who she dates, or who she marries, but it's all wearing you out! Maybe you _should_ back off and think about yourself for a change. Maybe you should get away for a couple of days. Maybe you could put in for leave, and get away for a week; somewhere you can just lie in the sun and relax, or treat yourself to a week in a spa somewhere. But Jen, you're worn out, you need to... to take a time out or something, and re-charge, or you're going to get sick, and then what would we all do?"

"Oh, Fran, I can't take leave now. The Colonel's on hospital leave, and there's a Commander McLellan just been parachuted in from Falls Church, and this is only her first full day today and..."

"Jen, that's exactly what's wrong! You're a Goddamn Petty Officer, not the JAG! Your pay-grade isn't high enough that you have to take all this crap! Now for Chrissakes, stop worrying about other folk and start worrying about yourself for a change!" Fran paused for breath and took another look at Jen, adding shrewdly, "It's not just the work and the worry is it? I can read the signs; look at you, you've not been sleeping well, have you? Or have you been sleeping at all? No, I thought not," she concluded as Jen opened her mouth to deny the accusation. "You just sit still there for five minutes, your auntie Fran is going to fix something that might help for tonight. No! Sit! Stay! _Bad_ girl!" she commanded as Jen made to get up.

Jen couldn't help but chuckle wearily as Fran imitated a dog trainer for her benefit and then headed for the kitchen area. In a couple of minutes punctuated by the sound of clinking glass, the kettle came to the boil and Fran poured the steaming water into a glass mug.

"Here, drink this, it'll help you sleep!" she ordered.

Jen looked enquiringly at her friend, "Drink!" she was ordered, and with a half-smile she raised the mug to her mouth. It was hot and smelled of lemon. Yes, there was definitely lemon in it, and honey, and something spicy and aromatic... whatever it was it caught at the back of her throat and made her eyes water a little.

"Fran, just what, exactly," she demanded suspiciously "is in this?

"Oh, _uno poco de el y uno poco de eso_," Fran replied evasively, "Just drink it while it's still hot, or you won't get the full benefit of it!"

"You have been spending way too much time talking - pillow talking - with Tim!" Jen accused her friend, and then gasped as whatever was in the drink caught at her throat again, "What have you put in here?" She demanded.

"Well," said a smiling Fran, "there's honey, lemon, cinnamon, some ground ginger, nutmeg, a crushed clove, water and just a drop of _la negrita_. Why do you ask, it doesn't taste all that bad does it?"

"No... not bad... just unusual. What's _la..._ whatever you said?"

"Oh it's just something Tim likes a drop of now and then to put into his coffee if he's not working. I think it's made from some sort of fruit juice."

"Oh, fruit juice, OK then." Said a reassured Jen and continued sipping at the drink, Fran was right it was having a soothing effect on her, and she was becoming pleasantly relaxed. All too soon it seemed, the drink was finished, and she smiled her thanks at Fran, and fighting back a yawn said, "There had better not have been any sleeping pills in that Fran!"

"No, none at all, I promise. Here give me that glass and I'll wash it up. You get off to bed - and try to sleep!"

Fran took the empty mug and rinsed it under the tap, and carefully replaced the bottle of Jamaican _La Negrita_ rum, now containing a good two fingers less than it had, where Jen would be unlikely to find it by accident, at the very back of the top shelf in the kitchen cabinet.

Jen yawned mightily, and with a mumbled, "Goodni' Fran, an' thanks," left the lounge for her bedroom where changing into a fresh pair of pyjamas, she slid under the duvet and was asleep almost before her head had hit the pillow.

Some of Fran's rum punch might have been useful in helping Mattie sleep. Trish Burnett had picked her up from school in the Rabb family Lexus and had, as she had promised Mac, not mentioned Tony Cameron's call. Mac had also determined not to say anything until the three of them had eaten, not wanting Mattie so excited or upset by the news that she was unable to eat.

Mac's reticence proved to have been a mixed blessing. While Mattie had eaten with customary appetite, when Mac told her after dinner that her MRI scan was scheduled for the following evening, Mattie went white and said "Oh, God..."

"Mattie, are you all right, dear?" Trish asked anxiously.

"Uh, no... I feel... a little queasy," Mattie managed to answer through firmly clamped lips.

"Sit down, dear and put your head between your knees for a minute or so... yes, like that." Trish waited for what she felt was the minute and added, "Now sit up, slowly, good. Now take a deep breath and let it out, nice and slow again. Good girl; how do you feel now?"

"I... feel like... I'm... going to... hurl!" gasped Mattie as she struggled to her feet in an unsuccessful attempt to reach the bathroom in time.

"Oh Trish! I'm so sorry," Mattie wept, mortified that she hadn't been able to control her stomach.

"It's all right, dear, nothing that a bucket of warm water and a mop won't cure... Sarah, no! Sarah, don't you dare - get to the bathroom. Now!"

The sight sound and above all the smell of Mattie's nausea had been too much for Mac's own pregnancy sensitive stomach, and she also turned pale, and clapping her hand over her mouth was trying to get past the tearful teenager and across the hall to the downstairs bathroom. Hearing Trish's command, Mac rolled her eyes towards her and nodded her head, as she side-stepped Mattie and shot out of the kitchen.

Trish spent the next few minutes comforting the weepy and embarrassed Mattie, reassuring her that nerves could make anyone feel sick, and while she was consoling the teenager keeping an eye on the bathroom across the hall to make sure that once Mac had finished, she would go straight to the lounge.

Mattie consoled and furnished with a glass of water to rinse the evil taste out of her mouth, she was despatched to the bathroom to wash her face, while Trish fervently hoped that any residual odours left by Mac's visit wouldn't inflict a fresh bout of nausea. Trish then sighed, and unearthed the mop and bucket and set to work on cleaning the kitchen floor.

The clean up completed and the crockery and cutlery from dinner washed, dried and put away, Trish ventured into the lounge to see how the two nausea victims were holding up. Mattie was curled up against Mac's side while Mac one hand stroking Mattie's head was talking on the phone, obviously to Harm, "So, after we were both rather spectacularly unwell, we retired to the lounge, and I'm afraid we left Trish to police the kitchen... no, we did not run away, or retreat.. it was a tactical withdrawal... oh, you! I am going to make you pay in spades for that crack, flyboy...! No Mattie's fine now, it was either nerves, or more probably excitement, wait a second... she wants to speak with you."

"Hey Harm, great news, huh...? Yeah, I'm fine now, really... Just the excitement I guess...Yeah, I know it's only the first step, but it could mean me getting my legs back in the end, and then maybe getting fit enough for the academy... Yeah, I know that... Mrs Greenwood going to give me extra math drills to help me... Uh-huh, Calculus, yeah... I should do OK on SATs, I guess... Oh, OK then, I will do brilliantly on SATs, is that good enough...? Well, I know a couple of guys in the navy who might write me a letter of recommendation, and there's this hard-a... er... hard-nose Marine Colonel who might help... Yeah? Yuh think...? Yeah, I love you too Harm... You want Mac again...? OK, here she is..."

Mattie handed the phone back to Mac and curled up against her side again.

Mac said, "Hey, flyboy, how about that huh...? I haven't seen Mattie so happy in so long a time... Yeah, of course it makes me happy... As happy as... Happy enough to what...? Harmon Rabb! Behave yourself! Where are you calling from...? The lounge...? Harm! What if Harriett heard you say that... She what...? I don't believe it! What are you thinking? What was Harriett thinking...? No, you can't. You'll have to wait a minute." She covered the 'phone's mouthpiece with her hand, "Mattie, you're going to have to let me up, please."

Mattie thought about being awkward and not moving. Well for a second or two, anyway, until she saw the look on Mac's face, then she sighed and pushed herself upright, Mac got to her feet and speaking urgently into the phone left the lounge and headed for the stairs and her bedroom.

Mattie looked after her for a few seconds and then turned towards Trish, and with a look of pure innocence on her face said, "I have no idea what Harm said to her Trish, but it sure made her go red in the face - and the ears!"

The look Trish returned was just as innocent as she said, "I know, dear, isn't extraordinary how some people blush for no reason at all."

The two shared another look and then simultaneously burst into conspiratorial laughter.

Mac in the meantime had reached the safety of her bedroom, and in a fondly scolding tone said, "Harmon Rabb, don't ever do that to me again! How I didn't burst out laughing is beyond me. You should have seen the look on Mattie's face...! Trish...? Oh, Trish was fine, I don't think we could shock her if we tried! Yes, I know, I love her to bits too. But listen; there is someone else who I love even more... No, he's a bit of stranger round here, yeah, some ex-navy hot-shot legal eagle. I love him and I miss him, and our baby misses him and we want him home! How much longer are you going to be out there Harm? I know I've been just been fooling, but I do love you, and I want you home. And Harm, we really do want you back home if Mattie has to have surgery... Promise me you'll be home for that... No I don't care about your stupid grand jury, just be home for Mattie... and for me."

Trish joined Mattie on the couch and smoothed her hand over Mattie's riot of curls. "Are you feeling any better, now Mattie?"

Mattie accepted the caress and smiling round at Trish said, "Yeah, thanks, but I feel so dumb, so stupid not to be in control."

"Not to worry dear, we've all been there at one time or another, for one reason or another."

"Huh! I'll bet you were never so stupid as to hurl in public!"

"Oh, don't you believe it, my girl! At one time, for about four months, I was sick all day, every day, and it didn't matter where I was, or what I was doing, or what time of day! It didn't matter at all, if I was on the bus, in a store, walking along the street, oh, just about everywhere and every when you can imagine!"

"Wow, you were that sick?" Mattie was impressed, "But Harm says you're never sick!"

"That was in the days before Harm knew me," smiled Trish, pleased with the effect her gentle teasing was having on the now-puzzled Mattie.

"How can he not have known you, you're his mom..." Mattie frowned in thought, and then as she penetrated Trish's deliberate clouding of the issue she said, "Oh, Trish! That's too bad of you! That was morning sickness! You were pregnant!" Then pausing to recollect exactly what Trish had said, "All day?"

"Yep, all day, every day," Trish confirmed, pleased that Mattie had solved the puzzle on her own, and added in a whisper "Don't tell Mac, but although we call it 'morning sickness' it can happen any time, day or night!" And talking of night-time," she continued in a conversational tone, "have you got any homework you need to do before you go to bed? Well, then, off you go and do it. Now remember, not a word to Mac about the all-day sickness, right?"

Mattie stumped up the stairs to her bedroom, where pulling her schoolbooks out of her bag, she opened her physics text-book and notebook and started to work out the set problems covered by the parallelogram of velocities.

After working for over an hour she finished up for the night and showering she donned her T-Shirt and shorts and got into bed. Unlike Jen, however she couldn't sleep. Her mind was occupied with thoughts of what the MRI scan could mean to her. Sure, she had been fairly confident, not to mention cocky when talking about the scan and possible surgery, but at the time it had seemed so far off in the future that it hadn't really registered. Suddenly the scan and the prospect of surgery were very real, in the here and now. She wasn't frightened she told herself, she just wished there was someone other than Mac or Trish with whom she could talk it over. She would have liked to share her news with Jen, and to have talked to Jen, but Jen hadn't gotten back to her. That wasn't like Jen, maybe she was still pissed at her. If she was then Mattie couldn't blame her she had been a real brat the other night, and Mac had been right to rip up at her. But maybe Jen had just been busy, wasn't tonight the night she went to her psych class? Full of doubt and self recrimination, Mattie tossed and turned for what seemed like hours, every so often squinting in despair and frustration at the clock on her night stand. The last time she remembered seeing the hands of the clock stood at twenty to three.


	20. 19 October 2007

**Friday 19 October 2007**

When Jen's alarm clock woke her at six she rolled out of bed, still feeling unsettled. Brushing her teeth took away some of the metallic taste in her mouth, and she promised herself that she would kill Fran for whatever had been in that damn' drink. Pulling her hair back into its pony tail and dressed in T-Shirt and singlet she headed for the bike path.

Just short of forty minutes later she returned to Cape May Avenue just in time to be intercepted by Sally Cameron who was about to climb into her car, but seeing Jen jogging down the street paused to wait for her and to say hello.

"Good morning Jen, still hard at it, then?"

"'Morning Sally, Yes," Jen grinned as she steadied her breathing, "and still waiting for you to come and join me one of these fine days!"

"Oh, you're going to have to wait a few months, yet," Sally smiled, smoothing her shirt over a now noticeable bump.

Jen smiled back, even though she still wasn't feeling on top form, there was something about Sally that just made people happy to be around her. Maybe it was because she seemed so content with her pregnancy, so different from poor Mac and her problems, and that happiness rubbed off on other people. It was a thought that Jen felt needed to be shared with Sally, and she tried to do just that.

Sally laughed at Jen's theory and disclaimed that all was not always as it appeared to be on the surface, "You may think I'm happy now, and yes, I guess I am, but for nearly three months, I could barely get my head out of the toilet, I had really bad morning sickness! I am so glad that stage is over!"

Jen still, despite the respite brought on by her run, feeling queasy wished that Sally had chosen another topic of conversation and tried to guide the talk away from the physical aspects of pregnancy, "How's the bump affecting your job?" she asked, "You're not still going out to crime scenes, are you?"

"No, sighed Sally with regret plainly discernible in her voice, "I'm stuck on admin duties now. You wouldn't believe just how many reports and how much paperwork gets filled in at a Precinct House."

"Oh, wouldn't I?" retorted Jen with a laugh, "You should try working for the navy for a day!"

Sally joined in her laughter, "It's too bad we're not guys," she giggled, "or we could settle this quite easily; all we'd have to do is whip it out and..."

"And slap it on the table!" Jen finished her sentence for her.

Both women laughed again, and then waving goodbye, Sally climbed into her car and headed out for her new duties, while Jen climbed the steps to the front door, somehow feeling better for her brief conversation with the older woman.

Three quarters of an hour later, a showed and breakfasted Jen, slung her purse over her shoulder and adjusting her cover until it was just so, gave a grumpy early-morning Fran a goodbye hug and took the elevator down to ground level.

It still felt strange to be heading straight to work instead of swinging by Pacific Avenue and taking Mattie to school, but Jen heaved a sigh of relief that she would be relieved of that task for another few days; she surmised glumly that unless Mac made an unexpected total recovery, she would again find that task devolving upon her.

On arrival at the main gates on South 32nd Street Jen appreciatively noticed that the DEFCON had been lowered to normal levels and all that was required to be allowed through into the base was for her to show her ID and pass. It was the same at the JSLT building, the marine sentry was dressed in his Service Dress 'A' uniform and instead of carrying an M-16 wore a holstered pistol on his belt. Jen gave him a quick smile as she proffered her ID, to which he gave a cursory glance. He smiled inwardly, the Admiral's Petty Officer was smiling again; God was obviously in his heaven and all was well with the world.

He was still thinking about Jen and her changing moods when the new Commander and the British Colonel he had been warned to be on the look-out for walked up the steps. Scuttlebutt had it that he was the new Commander's husband and that he was a marine. That was enough for the sentry; a marine was a marine, whether he was from the USA, Britain or Outer Iraqistan, coming smartly to attention he snapped off his sharpest salute. Both officers returned his salute, and while he recognised that there was something different about the Colonel's salute, it took him a while to figure it out.

Jen had deposited her cover in her desk drawer, and booted her computer before she headed for the galley to brew a pot of coffee. She was waiting for the hot water to filter through into the pot when both Commander and Colonel McLellan walked into the galley.

"Good morning ma'am, sir," Jen braced to attention.

Meg McLellan replied, "Good morning Coates, you beat me to it this morning! So I will have a cup of that..."

"Coffee, ma'am, yes, ma'am."

"And I drink it..."

"Black, ma'am, I remember, ma'am!"

Meg looked Jen in exasperation, "Petty Officer, you're..."

"Doing it again, ma'am? Sorry ma'am."

Both the McLellans took the cups of coffee offered to them and left the galley, while Jen sank back against the work top and silently berated herself. When, she demanded, would she stop interrupting other people!

Andy McLellan kept a straight face until he and his wife had reached the sanctuary of her office, when he sat back in one of the two leather covered armchairs, and broke into a chuckle. Meg, who had her own lively sense of humour looked up from her desk and said in tones of wifely patience, "And what has got you giggling this early in the morning?"

"Your Petty Officer, Meg. The look on that poor girl's face! She knew what she was doing, but she just couldn't stop herself!"

Meg's own ready smile broke out, "Coates is, I'm told, one of the best Yeomen there is, although strictly speaking she's a Legalman. She's worked for Admiral Chegwidden - you don't know him, he's retired now - General Cresswell and now for Sarah MacKenzie. They all say the same thing, that she's one of the best, but also one of the most insubordinate Petty Officers they've ever worked with! I guess her good habits outweigh her bad one, but don't you go encouraging her!"

Andy pointed a finger at himself and mouthed "Moi?"

"Yes, you," Meg grinned at his foolishness, she took a sip of her coffee, "I will say one thing though in her favour, she makes damn' good coffee! But speaking of Sarah MacKenzie, I really need to pay her a courtesy call, and get the gen on this place. From what I saw yesterday, it's in not too bad shape, but so very short-handed still."

"Now, what," she asked her husband, have you got lined up for today?"

"I've got a car and driver picking me up from here at oh-eight-forty-five hours, to take me up to the recruit training centre, where I've got an appointment with the Commandant, and then the usual whistle-stop tour, I suppose. Then after lunch I have a meeting with two of those letting agents you have me tracking down yesterday afternoon. And I still think you should be with me for those meetings!"

"Oh, why?"

"Because my darling, it's you who will have to live in whatever apartment we settle on, and I don't want your home-grown letting agents ripping off this poor little Limey country cousin!"

"Now that," Meg smiled leaning back in her chair, "is something I'd pay good money to see, if I thought it could ever happen! But you've got a point about having to live with the consequences of your choosing an apartment." She leaned forward and pressed the call button on the interphone, "Coates?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"What's on my calendar for this afternoon?"

"One moment, ma'am... Ma'am, you have a pencilled in appointment at fifteen-hundred with Lieutenant Colonel Picton, he's the base Provost marshal, ma'am."

"Is that here or in his office, Coates?"

"That would be here, ma'am."

"Very good, Coates, please call the Colonel's office and reschedule. Then keep the calendar clear for the rest of the day, and please put a call through to Colonel MacKenzie's home number for me. Then call the motor pool and ask them to provide me with a car and driver to collect me he here at fourteen-hundred hours, the car to have an off-base pass, please. Have you got all that?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you, Coates. Right," she turned back towards Andy, "We'll go see these letting agents, at fourteen-hundred, then as soon as..." she broke off as her phone rang.

"Commander McLellan... oh, thank you Coates. "Hello, Colonel MacKenzie? Good morning this is Meg McLellan..."

Meg McLellan replaced the handset in its cradle. So that had been Sarah MacKenzie on the 'phone. She'd never met the marine officer, but she knew of her. She had managed to stretch her tour at Falls Church out for nearly nine years, that meant either that she was a damn' good litigator, one of the best in fact, or that she had some sort of hold over the previous JAG, Admiral Chegwidden. It certainly hadn't taken General Cresswell long to ship her six out of Washington. Maybe she ought not to be too hard on MacKenzie, though. Rabb had managed even longer at Falls Church, going through three partnerships, Kate Pike, herself, and of course, Sarah MacKenzie, and General Cresswell had had orders cut to ship him out too at the same time as MacKenzie, but he resigned so that he could marry her instead of taking up a new four-ring post in London That could have been interesting, he would have been her new boss, pretty much as it had been back in the day when he was the senior partner and she the junior.

She smiled, that was a gesture typical of the man, all for love and the world well lost. Well, she only hoped MacKenzie deserved him.

Andy's "Give you a penny for them?" jolted her out of her thoughts and memories.

"Oh, I was just wondering what was, what is and what might have been," she answered cryptically.

"Regrets?" he asked softly.

"Yes, a few," she confessed, "but if things had been different, then I wouldn't be sitting here talking to my husband who I love very, very much. That would have been the single biggest regret there could ever possibly be."

He looked at her, "Megan Austin, are you trying to play me?"

Meg wasn't fooled by his attempted poker face, "I most certainly am," she replied, deliberately altering the context, "if I can't play with my husband, with whom can I play? And I'm certainly not going to let anybody else play with you."

"Oh, that's alright, then, he smiled, but then looking at his watch he stood, and placing his beret on his head, he drew himself up to attention and barked, "Permission to fall out, ma'am?" he pronounced it 'marm'.

"Yes, thank you, carry on Colonel! Oh, Andy, see if you can pick up some decent burgundy while you're out today. I cannot drink that rubbish in the O Club!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Go on, you fool, get out!"

Exiting through Jen's office, he was once again surprised as she sprang to her feet. He was finding the American punctilious habits of military courtesy a little bit oppressive. His own Chief Clerk, back in Plymouth, greeted him first thing in the morning with the proper formality, but Colonel McLellan thought that much more work could be achieved during the day if there wasn't all this leaping up and down. Still, when in Rome he supposed that one ought to speak Latin.

"As you were, please, Petty Officer

"Are you leaving us sir? Should I find someone to walk you out?"

"No, no... thank you, I think I can find the lift by myself, thank you," he smiled at her and strolled out through the bull-pen towards the stairs the elevator.

Jen shook her head, it was a funny sort of English these Brits spoke, she thought, as she gathered up the small pile of correspondence and files destined for Commander McLellan's in-box. Knocking on the doorjamb she remembered to wait for permission to enter, then entering and halting in front of the CO's desk, she asked, "Ma'am, Colonel MacKenzie liked me to give her a briefing on what I was bringing in, would you want me to carry on with that procedure, or would rather I just left everything for you, ma'am?"

Meg leaned back in her chair and looked at her Yeoman. There didn't seem to be any reason why the practice shouldn't continue, and until she had really read herself in, it would be useful to have some input from someone who knew what was happening in the team. "No, Petty Officer, I think that's good practice. In a way it's a bit like a pop-quiz, we can check each other's knowledge of what's happening."

"Uh, yes, ma'am. There's nothing really outstanding from today's mail, apart from a notification of charges being filed against a Master Sergeant at Miramar for wrongful misappropriation and wrongful disposition of government property, together with a request for an Article 32 hearing and trial and defence counsel."

"Do the charges specify the type of government property?"

"Yes, ma'am, it was three cases of M4 carbines."

"Right, put that one on the top of the pile and pass the word for Commander Coleman and... Lieutenant Tiner, please. Anything I else I need to know about?"

"Nothing official ma'am, the rest of it is just routine correspondence and requests under FOIA, once you've seen them ma'am, I can get a couple of the Legalmen working on them. But there is a bundle of personal mail for you ma'am, which has been redirected from England and then onwards from Falls Church."

"Thank you Coates, dismissed... Oh just before you do, can you get rid of these empties for me, please?"

"Aye, aye, ma'am."

Passing through the bull-pen on her way to deposit the dirty coffee cups in the galley Jen checked the status board. Commander Coleman was still tied up with the Starr case and would be due back in court in forty minutes, and Lieutenant Tiner was processing legal assistance applications, so no problems there. From the galley she went directly to Commander Coleman's office and rapping on the doorjamb she waited for Coleman to look up, "Your pardon, ma'am, Commander McLellan would like to see you and Lieutenant Tiner in her office ASAP."

"Thank you, Legalman, I shall be there directly."

What is it about that woman, Jen asked herself. I know she took my part when Simms imploded, but I just can't like her... no, that's not right... I just feel uncomfortable around her. Arriving at Lieutenant Tiner's office - it was amazing what he had done with it in such a short time - she was surprised to hear voices, and that voice belonged to... "Sir, ma'am, sorry to interrupt, but Commander McLellan wants to see you, Lieutenant Tiner, in her office ASP!"

"Thank you, Coates, I'm on my way. Annette, I'll catch up with you later."

"I'll surely be waitin' for y'all, Jason." The diminutive Texan officer nodded a greeting to Jen and walked away in the direction of her own office. Jen stood still, not quite sure where her wits had gone. Not only had Lieutenants Tiner and Walker been on first name terms, but Lieutenant Walker had been perched on the corner of Lieutenant Tiner's desk, with her shoe half-off her idly swinging foot. Jen may not have finished her psych course yet, but she knew enough to read simple body language, especially when it was written in five feet two inch high letters!

Sure, Lieutenant Walker was a very pretty young woman, and well, OK, Tiner wasn't that bad looking in a goofy sort of way, but Walker and Tiner? No way!

It was a still disbelieving Jen who returned to her desk and entering her password, started to check and read through her e-mails.

"Commander Coleman and Lieutenant Tiner, reporting as ordered, ma'am!"

"Thank you Commander. Have a seat, both of you," Meg McLellan invited them and then watched fascinated as Faith Coleman went through her ritual of seating herself, smoothing her uniform skirt and adopting her usual posture. Meg collected herself and looking down at the open file on her desk, continued, "Master Sergeant Lars Trygvassen, a Senior Ground Weapons Ordnance Chief at Miramar has been charged with the theft and improper disposal of three cases of M4 Carbines, charges the Master Sergeant denies. The convening authority has requested an Article 32 hearing, which seems on _prima facie_ to be appropriate. However, if the Master Sergeant has been selling Marine Corps weapons on the black market, as the specifics of the charges allege, then we need to find the identity of the buyers. It will be bad enough if these weapons have been sold to gang-bangers; I don't need to remind you of the possible consequences if these weapons fall into terrorist hands?"

"No ma'am"

"Master Sergeant Trygvassen claims that he has been 'set up' to cover up an inventory discrepancy. You two are to complete out a JAGMAN investigation ASAP. Commander, I know you have a busy schedule and that you're still on the Lieutenant Starr case; when do you expect to make your closing argument?"

"That depends very much on the defence, Ma'am. Lieutenant Starr's counsel is trying to call an entire battery of witnesses to prove that she was not responsible for her actions when she shot her husband."

"H'mm, I haven't had time yet to go over the case in detail, what's the basis of her plea?"

"Not guilty by reason of self-defence; the Battered Wife Syndrome, ma'am."

"Evidence of an assault by her husband?"

"Multiple assaults on past occasions, ma'am, and evidence from the ER that she had fresh injuries on the night of the shooting."

"So... why did this come to trial? It seems clear enough, he attacked her, and she shot him."

"There's evidence of pre-meditation ma'am. She bought the weapon two days before she shot him, and there was the third shot, ma'am."

"Third shot?"

"Yes ma'am. According to her testimony she fired twice, hitting him in the chest and shoulder, but he kept on coming, so she fired a third round; it hit him in the back, ma'am."

"This isn't a murder trial, so I assume he survived. What's his version of the events?"

"That they got into a verbal argument, during the course of which she produced the weapon, he grappled with her to try and take the weapon away, that's when she received the injuries she was treated for, then she pushed him away and started shooting. He took the two hits and turned to run and that's when she fired for the third time."

"OK, who do you believe, Commander?"

"It doesn't matter who I believe, ma'am, I was assigned to prosecute her, and I'm doing my job."

"Very well, if you're making your closing argument this afternoon... and I know it's like asking how long is a piece of string... but do you expect a quick verdict?"

"I can't tell ma'am, from the panel's current body language, I'd say two guilty, three not guilty and two undecided. It could be a long process."

"Damn; Commander, I really need you on this Miramar case ASAP. Alright leave it with me. Take the file and read up as time allows. Dismissed."

Coleman and Tiner got to their feet and replied, "Aye, aye ma'am," in chorus before leaving her office.

Meg reached for the 'phone, but before she could pick it up, Jen rapped on the doorjamb. "Come in, Coates."

"Ma'am, these three messages just came in for you. The Provost Marshal would now like to talk with you tomorrow morning at ten-hundred hours. I'm to get back to his Yeoman with your yes or no. If no, then you are to please suggest another time. Someone called Happy Harry says he'll have a Fusion to your specs available by the end of the working day on Friday, and wants you to call him back to confirm delivery arrangements, and lastly Commander Manetti called from Falls Church, the movers have got your household gear from England and want to move it into your place in Annandale. Commander Manetti wants to know if she can get hold of a key anywhere as the movers, I quote, 'have got a bug up their six', at least, I think she said 'six', ma'am."

Thank you Coates. Check my calendar for Monday and if I'm clear at ten-hundred, call the PM's Yeoman, and I will be happy to go across and see him in his office, if he prefers. I'll call Commander Manetti and Happy Harry, and answer their queries. Is there anything else for the moment?"

"There's a stack of FOIA requests waiting to be allocated ma'am. I've looked through them and they all look pretty straightforward, I could get a couple of Petty Officers working on them, and get them prepared for submission, unless you want to check them through first?"

"What was Colonel MacKenzie's method of dealing with them?"

"Get them prepped by the Legalmen and then checked by a junior attorney before passing them up to her for signature and transmission to the appropriate authority, ma'am."

"OK, that seems to be a system that's worked in the past?" Jen nodded agreement, "OK, let's not try to fix what's not busted. I guess you know who can do the best job on this sort of thing?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Alright then Petty Officer, no calls and no disturbances for the next twenty minutes, please. Dismissed."

"Aye, aye, ma'am!"

Meg watched the door close behind Coates. The Petty Officer certainly seemed to know what she was doing, and Sarah Mackenzie had been very positive about her, and was recommending her for promotion to Chief, and although that sort of endorsement was comforting, she still wanted to make up her own mind.

Jen returned to her desk, and with a look of dislike at Mac's draft Policy Review document on her computer screen she consulted the heavily manuscript amended original on her desk and started typing. Mac, she mused, ought to have been a doctor, or JSLT should have included a cryptologist, or one of those archaeologist guys that could translate Egyptian hieroglyphics, how did the Colonel ever graduate high school let alone college and law school with handwriting like this? What the hell was that word - futurance...? No... furtherance; furtherance of the aim? Was that even a word? Jen reached for her dictionary, but before she could open it, the outside line indicator on her phone flashed as it rang. Typical, Jen thought as her hand went to the phone, get started on something and now this!

"JAG JSLT Office, Petty Officer Coates, sir!"

"Hi, Jen, it's Mattie."

"Mattie? What are you doing calling me on this line? Is everything OK?"

"Yes, everything's fine, Jen, but I've been trying to call you on your cell since yesterday evening; I keep getting a voice message saying that it's turned off."

"Oh, hell! Mattie, I'm sorry, I turned it off for my psych class, and I've been so... so busy I guess I forgot to turn it back on. What's up?"

"Uh, nothing's up, Jen... it's just, well I was worried that you were still mad at me... and then, Tony Cameron called yesterday, he's fixed it for me to have a scan."

"Mattie, that's great news! I'm so happy for you! And no, I'm not mad at you."

"Yeah, well, the thing is Jen, the scan's for this evening at Hillcrest... and Jen, I'd really, really like it if you could be there, please?"

Jen's frustration with being placed in a position of responsibility for Harm's family, a position that she didn't want disappeared on the instant.

"Oh, Mattie, yes, of course I'll be there for you. What time is it set for?"

"It's for six o'clock, Jen, that's..."

"Eighteen-hundred for me, yes, I know. I'll be there, but isn't Mac going with you? Oh, no she can't, she's supposed to be on bed rest!"

"No, she says she'll be there, but Trish is driving, so we'll both be passengers."

"Oh... well, if Mac _and_ Trish are going to be there, are you sure I won't just be in the way?"

"Never! Jen, it's not that I just want you to be there... I need you to be there. You're my hospital good luck charm! Remember at Blacksburg, I was unconscious for days after the crash, but I woke up almost the second you came to see me, and then it was you got me off my butt and into therapy when I wasn't able to even stand on my own... Jen, I'd never tell Mac or Harm, but I'm kinda nervous about tonight, and what might happen after... Please, Jen?"

"Oh, Mattie, you don't have to beg... you'll never have to beg me to help you. If you want me there, then I'll be there. I'll see you this evening, and remember, I love you, yeah, 'bye, sweetie."

"Who's the lucky guy Coates?" Enquired Lieutenant Graves, who had paused unnoticed on her way to the CO's office.

"Oh, ma'am, you startled me! I didn't see you waiting, I'm sorry ma'am!" Jen apologised, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks.

"Aaaah... young love," the blonde smiled indulgently.

Young love my six! The Lieutenant was probably younger than she was Jen thought indignantly.

"No, ma'am, no lucky guy; that was Mattie, the Colonel's step-daughter, she's going into hospital this evening, and wanted to make sure I'd be there when she goes in!"

Lieutenant Graves' face lost its grin and took on a look of concern, "I hope it's not serious, Coates?"

"No, ma'am, just a scan tonight, but it's what the scan might or might not reveal that's worrying."

Catherine Graves nodded in acknowledgement, "Well, if you think it will bring her any comfort, you can tell your young friend that I'll say a prayer for her tonight."

"Ma'am, I'm sure she'll appreciate it, and I'll be sure to tell her!"

The young officer nodded again said, "I hope all goes well for her, but that's not what I came by for, is the Commander free?"

"I'm sorry ma'am, no. The Commander has said she's not to be disturbed for the moment. Can I pass you the word when she is free?"

"Yes, thank you, Coates. When she is free, can you tell her it's kinda urgent, please?" With a half smile, Lieutenant Graves left the Yeoman behind her. She really did need to get to see the Commander, somehow the press had got wind of a story about a marine Corps Staff NCO selling weapons to terrorists, and she was being besieged by reporters wanting to know what the military justice system was going to do.

Commander McLellan was at that very moment asking herself the same question. The plain fact was that she didn't have enough attorneys to do the work that they were being asked to do. She had interviewed Tiner, Graves and Walker and while they were all well qualified, they just didn't have the experience to be able to do what was needed, and what was just as important they didn't have the rank to face down some hard-nosed Navy or Marine Corps senior officer who wanted things done his way or not at all. She just couldn't imagine the petite Lieutenant Walker politely and subtly threaten a superior officer with charges of attempting to exercise undue command influence in the conduct of a JAG investigation, as the then Lieutenant Commander Rabb had done - on more than occasion.

Much as she hated the idea of suggesting that she couldn't cope with the situation on her own, Meg reached for the 'phone and began to dial.

"HQ JAG, Sergeant Brewer, sir!"

"Good morning, Sergeant, this is Commander McLellan at San Diego, is the General free?"

"He's on another line at the moment Commander. Can I help or do you wish to hold, or shall I have him call you back?"

"Is it likely to be a long hold?"

"I shouldn't think so, ma'am, but I'll put you on speaker phone, so if you need to me to call back, just holler, and I'll hear you fine. And ma'am, how are you liking San Diego?"

"I haven't seen much of it yet Sergeant, but I like the climate so far!"

"Yes, ma'am, I sure do miss the sun and the beach!"

"You've been stationed here, Staff Sergeant?"

"No ma'am! Born and raised in Carlsbad, just down the coast from Pendleton!"

Meg laughed, "Isn't that just typical of the Navy, Staff Sergeant, and of the Marines too!"

"What's that, ma'am?"

"Well there you are in DC, while the Yeoman here is from Maryland and is stationed in California. Maybe the two of you need to change assignments!"

"No thank you, ma'am, one of the reasons I joined was to see the world!"

"Yes, there's that too Sergeant!"

"Yes, ma'am. Ma'am the General's finished his call, putting you through now."

"Cresswell."

"Good morning, General, Commander McLellan here."

"Commander; what can I do for you?"

"Sir, to put it bluntly, I need more attorneys!"

"McLellan, never in my life did I ever hear anyone say they wanted more lawyers!"

"No, sir, I'll admit it's mighty strange. But I do need them. Specifically, I need senior attorneys with major case trial experience. General, has the Trygvassen case reached your desk yet?"

"No, what's that?"

"He's a Marine Corps Master Sergeant charged with selling weapons, M4 Carbines to be specific, and there's speculation the weapons are going to a terrorist group. I've got Faith Coleman carrying out a JAGMAN investigation, as soon as she's finished her current case, the Starr shooting?"

"Yes, I'm aware of that one."

"Yes, sir. But although I have her penciled in to prosecute if the case comes to trial, I have no-one, other than myself who can take on the defence. With Colonel Mackenzie out on hospital leave for at least a week, I only have three Lieutenants available for anything and everything else that might come up. General, I hate to say this, but I need help."

"Did you just use the 'H' word, Commander?"

"Yes, sir, I did, and if it makes the General any happier, I'll use it again!"

"No, Commander, not needed. I'll see what I can do, but remember, we're still short handed here. But there is one crumb of comfort I can give you, I've got a Major MacLaren on his way to you. His orders were cut yesterday, but he's assigned to the amphibious force command on board the _Tarawa_, but he should be notifying you shortly of his ETA, and I'll see if I can scare up a couple more experienced lawyers for you; you might have to settle for TADs dammit! The whole point of setting up regional JSLTs was to be able to dispense with sending attorneys all over the world on TAD!"

"Yes, sir, thank you sir."

"Is that all Commander? Nothing else I can do for you?"

"Not for the moment, sir."

"Fine, I'll speak to you soon."

"Aye, aye sir!"

Meg replaced the handset on the phone and leaned back in her chair. At least she was getting one attorney, and maybe if the General could pull another one out his hat she might be able to suggest to the Colonel that they form semi-permanent teams, much as had been done back in the day at Falls Church.

Meg looked at her watch, it was just coming up to eleven-hundred hours, and she hadn't even gotten to the bottom of the correspondence that Coates had dumped on her desk nearly three hours ago. Talking of eleven o'clock, it was just about time for a coffee.

"Coates!"

"Yes, ma'am?"

Meg blinked, she had expected efficiency but the sound of her voice had hardly faded when the Yeoman had opened the door.

"Coates could you get me a…"

"A cup of coffee ma'am?"

Meg blinked again, "Petty Officer, apart from you finishing my sentence for me - and that habit has just stopped, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Apart from that, how the hell did you know I was going to ask for coffee?"

"I don't know, ma'am, sometimes it just kinda comes to me; not often, but just ever' once in a while."

"Alright then Coates, one hot, black coffee, please."

"Yes ma'am! And ma'am, Lieutenant Graves needs to speak with you."

Meg sighed, "OK, send her in."

The young Public Affairs Officer had been waiting for the summons and was half-way across the bull-pen before Jen had finished passing the message.

"Come in Lieutenant, what can I do for you?"

"Ma'am, the media has gotten hold of a story about a Marine Master Sergeant selling arms to Al Quaeda, and want to know what action the Marine Corps and Navy's judicial branch are taking. I have told them 'no comment, we can't discuss on an ongoing case', but my 'phone has been ringing off the hook, ma'am. What can we, and what do we want to say to them?"

"Damn! Do we know how this story got out?"

Catherine Graves shook her head slightly, "Ma'am, it can only have been a leak, either here or Miramar. I've checked with Miramar, the Master Sergeant is in the brig and his 'phone calls are monitored. Unless we can get the media to reveal their source, then I'd say we have very little chance of finding out."

"Lieutenant, now the story is out, I guess our best chance to defuse the situation lies in damage control. Gussie it up a bit if you want, but JAG's official position is that we are aware of the alleged offences and are investigating them, and we will be preparing charges if there is any truth in the allegations. In the meantime, steps have been taken to ensure that if there have been any illegal transactions, also subject to investigation; any future transactions have been prevented."

"Yes, ma'am, that was pretty much what I had in mind, but I figured I needed to run it by you before I issued it as a media release."

"Fine, OK, Lieutenant, thank you. Dismissed!"

"Aye, aye ma'am!"

The next hour flew by, both Commander and Petty Officer with their heads down ploughing through their respective work loads, until Jen became aware that the bull-pen was emptying. Squaring away her desk, she retrieved her cover from its drawer, and placing on her desk, she knocked on the CO's door jamb.

"Enter!"

"Ma'am," Jen said from the doorway, "Just to let you know that I'm standing down for lunch."

"Thank you, Coates. How long do you expect to be away from your desk?"

"About forty minutes, ma'am, unless you need me back sooner?"

"No, that's fine; just switch your 'phone through to me before you go, please."

"Are you not taking lunch, ma'am?"

"No, I'm working through."

"In that case, ma'am, can I get you something from the commissary, a sandwich, maybe?"

"H'mm," said Meg, reaching for her purse, "How's their pastrami on rye?"

"Well, I wouldn't guarantee New York deli style ma'am, but it's not too bad." Jen smiled.

"OK, take this five and bring me a pastrami on rye please, and if there's enough left in change, then a bottle of mineral water, too."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, and Coates,"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I'm sorry to spoil any weekend plans you may have made, but, we'll be working this weekend; certainly tomorrow, and possibly on Sunday. So you'll need to cancel any arrangements."

"Aye, aye, ma'am!" Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!

Lunch over and sandwiches consumed, Meg McLellan was disturbed once more by Jen informing her that her husband, her car and her driver were waiting for her. Meg retrieved her purse and her cover and telling Jen that she did not expect to return that afternoon, left the building for her meeting with Mac.

Telling the Marine Lance Corporal driver to wait for them, Meg and Andy walked up the path to the front door, where they were met by a slim, well dressed, well groomed, grey-haired woman, who appeared to be in her late sixties. Meg hastily checked the house number against the address she had on a slip of paper and asked tentatively, "Colonel MacKenzie?"

"No, dear, of course not, I'm Trish Burnett, Sarah's waiting for you in the lounge, come on in, both of you, do."

The name Trish Burnett rang a bell in Meg's memory, but she wasn't able to pin it down before she was ushered into the lounge, where a tall, strikingly attractive olive skinned brunette of about her own age rose to her feet to greet them.

"Colonel MacKenzie?" Meg enquired.

"Yes, I'm MacKenzie, you must be Meg McLellan?"

"Yes, Colonel, and if I may be permitted, this is my husband, Lieutenant Colonel Andrew McLellan, Royal Artillery."

"Colonel."

"Pleased to meet you, Colonel MacKenzie."

"Please, sit down, both of you." Mac waited until her guests had seated themselves before she said, "Now that we've introduced ourselves, we're going to be Commandering and Colonelling ourselves to distraction, so let's make it a bit easier. We're all of the equivalent grade, so especially when I'm at home, my name's Mac."

"Meg and Andy, then," Andy smiled.

Before anything further could be said, a knock on the lounge door announced Trish's return with a loaded tray on which were a plate of cookies a pot of tea together with cream jug, sugar bowl and a trio of cups and saucers. "Trish, you didn't have to do that, you're not a servant and I'm not a cripple, I could have done it easily enough."

"What and leave your guests unattended while you got it ready! Shame on you Sarah MacKenzie!" And having put Mac in her place, she made a triumphant exit to the kitchen.

Mac a little flushed fanned herself with her hand and to hide her embarrassment busied herself with pouring the tea. Once she had recovered a modicum of her poise, she grinned a bit shamefacedly, "Mother in law" she explained.

"Of course!" Meg exclaimed, "that's where I knew the name from, she's Harm's mother!"

"You know Trish?" Mac exclaimed in surprise.

"No, no, I've never met her, before only heard of her through Harm!"

Mac looked more closely at Meg, "Wait a minute, was your maiden name Austin?"

"Yes, why?"

"Hold on," Mac went over to a bureau at the end of the lounge and opening the roll top, brought out a leather bound book. "Here, we are, she said as flicked through the pages, that's you and Harm, right there!"

Meg looked at the photograph and felt a lump in her throat, there were three officers in the photograph all in dress whites and all looking up at a blue sky, they had obviously been unaware that they were being photographed.

"Yes," she said quietly, "I remember that day. That was Luke Pendry's funeral, his squadron had just flown the missing man, and we were watching the vapour trails. That's Tess McKee, Luke's wingman," she pointed to the dark haired officer in the photograph. "I liked her, but we lost touch, not long after the funeral, I guess she transferred out somewhere about the same time as I did and we never did get caught up again."

Mac knew that Tess had been killed when her own F-14 had suffered a low level bird strike and had plunged into the Pacific not far from Miramar, only a matter of months after Luke's death. Harm had flown, had been, the missing man for her funeral, but Meg seemed saddened enough by the memory of Luke Pendry, she couldn't bring herself to tell the blonde woman that Tess too had died.

"Yes," she said instead, "Harm said that you had been his partner, in fact, I was assigned to Falls Church in your place when you PCS'd; Brussels wasn't it?

"Yes, it was, but," and Meg made an effort to shake off the sadness that had unexpectedly washed over her, "we didn't call to talk over old times. I'm hoping that there'll be time and plenty for that in the coming months. I don't know how much the General told you Mac, but you should know that he made me aware of your condition, and that I'm here as your second-in-command until you are completely recovered and back to work. I understand that will be in about seven months time?"

Mac could only nod her head in agreement.

"I have no intention of usurping your position, or overriding any of your decisions or policies. I will however run the team as best as I can with the information that I have. If I have to make a policy decision, I will propose it to you so if there is any disagreement, you can veto it. This is still your ship, Mac; I'm only the harbour pilot."

Mac considered the other officer's words, "Yes,"she agreed," that seems fair enough. You do realise though that I won't be at home for the entire seven months. Despite" she added with a scowl at the door to the kitchen," what some people might think is best for me!"

"No, I should hope not! It was a bit of an unexpected surprise to find when I arrived that you had been dry-docked. What is it with Faith Coleman, by the way? I hate to say it when I've only spoken to her a couple of times, but she seems just a little bit off."

Mac grinned in embarrassment, "Me too, I'm afraid. She's slightly OCD, and it's got to the stage now where I can't even watch her sit down. It makes it difficult to write an objective report on her!"

"Yes, I can see that," Meg answered, "But other than that you seem to have good people there, although some are a bit young and inexperienced. I knew Tiner when he was a PO at Falls Church, and er… I've met your Yeoman, of course."

"Coates? Yes, she's a damn good Petty Officer and a fine Yeoman, I've recommended her for promotion to Chief, and we're just waiting for her next fitrep to confirm her suitability. She got an excellent report from her promotions course, and I only wish I could authorise frocking for her!" Mac paused, "She does however have one or two minor faults, she is very outspoken, sometimes almost to the point of insubordination, and she has an unfortunate habit of…"

"Finishing other people's sentences?" Andy enquired, with a look of innocence on his face.

The two women laughed, "Yes, just that" Mac replied. "I'm so sorry; discussing staff in front of you has put you in an impossible situation. Meg, why don't we leave this until we can be alone? It would probably be better if we had their jackets with us anyway!"

"Agreed, with just this one exception, there is a Major MacLaren en route to us on PCS from the _Tarawa_. I've already asked the General for another senior attorney, and he's said he'll do what he can. If he does come up with another Major or Lieutenant Commander, I was minded to form two-man partnerships on a semi-permanent basis, pretty much as we were teamed with Harm. What do you think?"

"Yes, not a bad ideas. I'll think on it. Now, you've been out of the States for so long," Mac deliberately changed the subject, "how does it feel to be back?"

Meg smiled, accepting the tacit rebuke, "It's kinda fun, it's all a bit strange, a bit like going to a foreign country, but I love the climate here in California, especially after all the rain in England," she joked with a sidelong look at Andy, "it's almost as good as being back home in Texas…"

Jen looked at the bull-pen clock, if she hurried she might just get this last load of files distributed before she could secure for the day in time to get to Hillcrest by eighteen-hundred hours; she was under no illusions as to the delays traffic could cause at this time of day on what should be no more than a fifteen minute drive, and she desperately did not want to be late for Mattie. The last few files dropped on Lieutenant Walker's desk and she was done.

Grabbing her cover off her desk, Jen made a last quick check to make sure that everything had been secured properly and quickly made her way across the bull-pen to the elevator, or the lift as Colonel McLellan had called it.

She had been right to secure early, although she wished that Commander McLellan had returned before she left the office. She had left a message pad on the Commander's desk where she had written the time she had secured and the reason for early disappearance, and if she had to take a hit for it she would. Now stopped in nose-to-tail traffic on the 163 she drummed her fingers against the steering wheel in an agony of impatience. The most frustrating thing about these delays she reflected is that after God knows how many minutes, the traffic would start to flow again and there would be no indication as to why she had spent, she checked her watch, the last seventeen minutes to cover no more than a hundred yards!

It took another 28 minutes before the trickle of traffic became a stream once more, and then only a further five minutes before Jen could park the Escort at Hillcrest's parking lot. Hillcrest was a much bigger hospital that the navy medical centre, but the whole place was so clearly signed that Jen was able to navigate her way straight to reception without difficulty, where an extremely helpful young desk clerk checked her monitor to confirm Mattie's whereabouts and was then able to give Jen clear and concise directions to the diagnostic suite waiting room.

Despite securing from work early, Trish, Mac and Mattie had beaten her to the hospital, and Mattie's cry of "Jen! Oh, you made it!" was enough to cause the two older women to turn in surprise.

"Hello, Coates, what are you doing here?" asked Mac, and then "That's got to be about the dumbest question I've asked all day! What time did you secure to get here by this time?"

"Uh... about twenty minutes, early ma'am."

Mac raised an eyebrow, "Does Commander McLellan know about that?"

"Well, she does if she's gone back to the office ma'am; I left a note on her desk. But ma'am, does Commander Robbins know you're here?"

Mac glared at her Yeoman, "Coates, are you trying to blackmail me again?"

"Me, ma'am? I wouldn't dream of it ma'am."

Just in case Mac boiled over, Trish came forward and held her hand out, "Jennifer, it is good to see you again, dear, how are you?"

"Good evening, ma'am. I'm well, thank you. I shan't ask how you are, I can see; you look great. How's Mr Burnett?"

"Jennifer for the umpteenth time, I am not in your navy, so you don't have to call me ma'am, and _Frank_," she put a slight emphasis on the name, "is very well. I left him yesterday looking for an eagle on the eighteenth to win his game. I believe he had a dollar a hole on the outcome."

Jen knew very little about golf but the inclusion of 'eagle' and 'hole' in the same sentence was enough of a clue for her not to look totally blank, but she was grateful as Trish said, "But you didn't come to talk to an old woman like me; that child is just about bouncing out her seat."

As Mattie was sitting perfectly still with an expression of 'look what I have to put up with', written all over her face, both Mac and Jen were forced to smile, and Jen taking her cue crossed to where Mattie was waiting in a hospital mandated wheelchair. "That," she said to Mattie, indicating the hospital gown she was wearing, "is one hell of a dress, but," she added pretending to peep around back, where it was held together only be three equally-spaced ties, "haven't you got it on back-to-front?"

Mattie, preoccupied with nervous anticipation was about to explode when the absurdity of Jen's question struck her, "Damn! have I? But it's prob'ly just as well; it'd be even more indecent than that beautiful cocktail dress I wanted. Besides, the effect would be wasted on me, I'm so flat. But," she ostentatiously eyed Jen's fuller bust and speculated, "If you were to wear it like that..."

Jen laughed, "I'd probably cause a riot, and Mac would send me to Leavenworth for the next forty years for conduct unbecoming!"

While Jen and Mattie had been talking, Tony Cameron had walked in to the waiting area and after greeting Mac and had been introduced to Trish, he asked Mac, "How're things coming along Mac? I know it's rude to ask. But Sal told me that if I didn't come home with a convincing answer then I'd be sleeping on the couch for at least the next six months!"

"And you believed her?" Mac asked with a smile.

"Oh, yes, of course she would have come out and joined me from time to time when she wanted..."

Trish's mock-offended cough stopped him dead and he blushed to the roots of his hair, "I'm sorry ladies, but being medicos we tend to get a little bit earthy and maybe a bit blasé about things we shouldn't."

"Oh that's nothing is it Sarah? Tony should talk to Harm's Gramma Sarah!"

Before Mac could formulate a diplomatic answer their conversation was disrupted by the sound of laughter arising from Mattie and Jen's discussion of the suitability of a hospital gown as fashion wear.

"What so funny?" Trish enquired of the pair.

"Oh, we just trying to decide how many years in Leavenworth Mac would give Jen for wearing this gown."

Mac, Trish and Tony exchanged puzzled looks, "We don't get you," Mac said.

"Oh, we thought that maybe Jen could wear it as a party dress to a club or something, but wear it back to front," Mattie giggled and levered herself to her feet and turned around to display the considerable amount of bare skin exposed in the gaps between the ties.

Trish gasped in shock as a mental image of Jen in such an revealing costume flashed across her mind's eye.

Mac just about managed to say "Mattie Grace!" before the absurdity of the suggestion caused her to laugh.

Tony Cameron grinned and cocked an eyebrow at Jen, who for some reason she could never explain found herself turning beetroot. Her embarrassment moved Tony, although he had caused it, to say, "Yeah, that's some gown you've got there Mattie, but you need to get back in your chair, I've got an orderly waiting to take you through for your scan. Now, before you go, I know you've had scans before, do you remember what they were like?"

"Yes." Mattie's voice was little more than a whisper.

"OK, so you know it's a tight squeeze, and you know it's noisy, but we've done something to help with that, when you get on the slide, you'll find a set of headphones, when you put them on you'll hear music. It might not be what's popular right now, but it will keep your mind off the noise of the scan. So remember, all you have to do is lie perfectly still for ten minutes, but if it gets too much for you, just yell, and we'll come and get you out, OK? Fine, have you got any questions for me, anything you're not sure about? Right, well I'll be watching the scan on the monitor in the control booth, so I'll be able to keep an eye on you through the window at the same time. Ready?"

"Yeah, ready." Mattie smiled at her three supporters as the orderly pushed her towards the radiology suite. Tony remained for a few seconds to reassure them, "There really is nothing to worry about, I wasn't just saying that to calm Mattie down. We'll be about fifteen minutes and then I'll have Mattie wheeled back to you and she can get dressed. Then we should be able to look at the scan imagery in another twenty minutes or so. In the meantime, there's a vending machine at the far end of the hallway, although I wouldn't recommend the coffee!" With a smile and a half-salute, he pushed his hands into the pockets of his lab-coat and headed towards the door through which the orderly had taken Mattie.

Trish, Mac and Jen seated themselves in three of the chairs arranged around a coffee table and composed themselves as best they could to wait for Mattie's return. Mac turned towards Jen and said, "I suppose it was Mattie who told you about this evening?"

"Yes, ma'am. I would have made arrangements to pick you up and save Mrs Bur... Trish from having to drive, but I was so dumb that I forgot to switch my cell back on after class last night, so Mattie could only get through to me this morning. It kinda left me too short of time to square things away with Commander McLellan. I'm sorry ma'am."

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Coates. It's enough that you made the effort to get here for Mattie. From what she's said, I get that you're her horseshoe or rabbit's foot."

Jen grinned, "Yeah, that's what she says, ma'am." Jen inspected her surroundings with a jaundiced eye, "God, I hate hospitals, ma'am. If Harm was here, do you know what this would remind me of?"

Mac looked at Jen curiously, "No, what?"

"The _Guadalcanal_, ma'am. You, me, and him, all sat on those dumb benches waiting for that damn doctor!"

"That's hardly fair on Commander Ferraro and her team, Coates, they worked hard to save Bud."

"Yeah, maybe, but even she said it was Bud that pulled himself through in the end."

"True enough Coates, but she cared; she cared just about as much as we did!"

"If you say so, ma'am."

Mac leaned back against the wall and sighed. She hadn't thought that Coates could carry a grudge like that. She obviously still resented the way that doctors had treated her when her mother died.

The fifteen minute that Tony Cameron had said the scan would last seemed to Jen and to Trish to take much longer, although repeated glances at their watches told them that the time only seemed to be dragging. Mac was in the same situation, but for her it was worse, she knew how slowly time was passing; for once her gift was working against her.

Just when Jen was on the verge of screaming her frustration, Mattie was wheeled back into the waiting room and was engulfed by a tidal wave of questions, how was it? how did she feel? did the doctors say anything? are you alright?

"Mac, Trish, I'm fine, it didn't hurt, it wasn't scary, just a bit noisy. Jen, tell 'em I'm fine, please!"

"Trish, ma'am," Jen interceded on Mattie's behalf, "Mattie says she's fine and I believe her. But we need to let her go get dressed; otherwise we'll have her roaming the streets of San Diego, with her butt hanging out that gown!"

Mattie shot Jen a grateful grin and disappeared into the temporarily unused room where she had changed earlier. She hadn't been back many minutes when Tony Cameron returned, he was holding a manila folder in his hand, and opening a door to a consulting room he invited them all to enter. Switching on a wall-mounted light box, he clipped the scan images in place and stood back inspecting them. After a couple of minutes he turned to Mac and said, "Firstly, I apologise for the delay in getting back out to you, this new scanner records onto DVDs and then we have to upload, enlarge and then print these positives, and that took a little longer than I would have liked, But we got here in the end. Now, Mac, Mattie I have good news and some not so good news."

Mac unconsciously put her arm around Mattie and drew her nearer, Mattie just as unconsciously slid her own arm around Mac's waist and rested her head on Mac's shoulder.

Tony smiled reassuringly and said, "The good news is I was right, there is a stenosis; it's right here on the L5, that's the fifth Lumbar vertebra. Do you see that little white triangle, just there?" He used the tip of a ball-point pen to point to what seemed to a miniscule spot on the image, "Well that's the nasty little sucker that's been giving Mattie all the problems with her legs." He smiled round at the group. "Now the not-quite-so-good-news is that I can definitely remove it, and once it's gone, because it was caused by trauma, it is very unlikely that it will ever come back. If it was a spontaneous stenosis, one that just formed and grew, getting rid of it is no guarantee that it won't come back, but we don't have to worry about that scenario. But, I'll be quite honest with you; it's an extreme anterior presentation, which means it's on the front of the spine, so it's lying between the anterior spinal artery and the spinal cord and in close proximity to the latter. It is not a major problem, but it does mean that instead of a couple of hours under a local anaesthetic and a same day release from hospital, Mattie is going to have to have a general anaesthetic and an overnight stay just so we can monitor her recovery. Mac, I understand that you'll want to talk to your husband about this, and he'll need to sign the consent form, but I really think we need to get this done as soon as possible. If you can get him to say yes over the phone and then tell me, or get him to call me, I can start the wheels rolling, so I can make all the necessary arrangements while we're waiting for the paperwork from him."

Mac and Mattie hugged each other a little tighter, and Mattie looked up at Mac, "Let's call him now, it's only ten on the east coast, he'll still be awake."

"Are you sure you want to do this Mattie? You heard the doctor, where he needs to cut is very near your spinal cord, and... is it a major artery, Tony?"

"Well it's not the femoral or carotid artery, Mac, but it's still not somewhere I'd want to put a blade through. Look, all surgery is a risk, even if it had been as simple as we'd hoped this was going to be, but you need to make the decision; is the reward likely to be worth the risk? What are the risks? Well if I screw up I could cause more damage to the spinal cord with more problems for Mattie's future mobility. Or I could cut into the artery and cause significant blood loss, and remember, once you start talking about a general anaesthetic, there is no such thing as routine surgery. Do I think I'll screw up? No I don't. Do I have confidence in my anesthesiologist? Yes, I do. So, is the reward likely to be greater than the risk? In my opinion, yes, it is. But I can only advise, you're the ones who must decide."

"Mac, let's do this, let's get this stupid piece of bone cut away. Mac, I want my legs back, I want my future back." Mattie's face was white, but the determination in her voice and in her eyes was unmistakable.

Jen's heart felt it would burst with pride as she saw and heard the courage in her young friend, but although she tried to say something encouraging to Mattie there seemed to be something blocking her throat and the words wouldn't come.

Ma, said nothing at first, but she put both her arms around Mattie and pulled her into a tight embrace, her tear-filled eyes met Trish's equally watery but proud smile. Mac then bent her head towards Mattie and burying her face in Mattie's curls said, "Let's go home and call your father."

Tony Cameron smiled in sympathy with the emotions running so high and turning to Jen said, "Tell them not to forget to call me as soon as they have made their decision."

Stacy Caldwell was also faced with a decision that evening. He had engineered an encounter with Simon Greening, an influential theatrical agent with more than a few big-name Hollywood and musical stars on his books, not that Stacy was interested in stardom, or even the stars themselves, other than that they had well-lined pockets, and an introduction to some of the more notorious big-spenders amongst them might be to his financial benefit. What had caught his interest was that Greening was a high-roller, but one who disliked paying casino's their percentage and so preferred privately arranged games where if disturbed by law enforcement it would be difficult to prove that the game was anything other than between friends.

Stacy had used the names of several well-known gamesters and by inferring that he knew them better than he did he had worked his way into Greening's good graces, and then when he had casually bemoaned the lack of a decent game in town, Greening had invited him to one of his Sunday evening poker sessions. Greening was no fool, however, and had realised that Stacy had an ulterior motive, but he had thought that Stacy was using him as a means of entry into a world in which he had no place.

That might have been Stacy's original intention but an hour's conservative play had not only seen him with a small but significant increase in the number of chips, but had allowed him to see that Greening had a 'tell', which betrayed whether he was bluffing or telling the truth in the round of betting on each hand. Plunging a little deeper, Stacy's pile of chips grew, and becoming increasingly confident in his play, the size of bets also increased. His increase in confidence also bettered the ratio of his wins to losses over the other players. When the game finally broke up in the early hours of Monday morning, Stacy not only had a good five figure sum of bills folded into his pocket, but he also had an invitation to return for the game the following weekend.

His spirits raised by his winnings, Stacy was convinced that he had turned the corner, and seen the end of his losing streak. True, he had not won nearly enough to pull himself out the financial hole he had dug, but he at least had some seed money. The thought that he could use some of that money to pay off some of his more pressing debts did occur to him but was almost immediately dismissed. Now the decision he faced was to either stay where he was in this cheap motel or taking advantage of his new-found prosperity make a move to an hotel more in line with his self-image. His gambler's belief in the power of luck left him in no doubt about the outcome of any future game in which both he and Greening played. Last Sunday's game had been by the book, and he hadn't even had to make use of the one or two little subtle stratagems which would, if needed, considerably enhance his chances of walking away with another sizeable roll of bills. The only possibility of things going wrong was Greener finding out that he was not at the Del Coronado as he had professed but was staying in this flea-pit, where he was certain the night-clerk was renting rooms by the hour to water-front whores. A further advantage Stacy considered that he was more likely to meet suitable marks at somewhere like the Del, now that he had the necessary cash to establish himself there.

The decision made Stacy swiftly packed, and then unlocking the window that opened onto the alley behind the motel he placed his bags within arm's reach and casually strolled out to the parking lot and eased himself into his BMW. A drive around the block brought him to the alley, where his fingers wedged under the window frame, he eased it open and retrieving his luggage stowed it in the trunk of his car, and once back behind the wheel he slowly rolled the car out of the alley before he allowed himself to press more firmly down on the accelerator before heading for a parking lot off Robinson Avenue, where having reversed his car into a parking spot, he reached for his cell 'phone and called to make his reservation at the Del Coronado, smiling in mild triumph as the desk clerk confirmed the availability of a room for his arrival for later that evening.

Mac had taken Harm's 'phone call that evening in the privacy of their bedroom, the heightened emotions of the hospital had not quite dissipated and there was some very private stuff and some very private feelings that Mac had wanted to talk about. Sadly, the 'phone call hadn't gone quite as either of them had hoped.

"Harm, hi honey, I love you! I've got something special to tell you...

"Uh... yeah, I gotta tell you something as well… and you're not going to like it…"

"Oh, Harm! Don't you even think of telling me that damn Grand Jury's dragging on!" Mac was irritated that he could even think of extending his stay in DC.

"No… it's not that… but I won't be coming back to San Diego any time soon…"

"Harm, what the hell?" Confusion was now mixed with anger. "Will you stop beating about the Goddamn' bush and just tell me in plain English, what the hell is going on?"

Harm's voice was filled with misery as he replied, "Mac, I've been drafted…"

"You've been what!" For the moment there was no room for anything other than astonishment.

"Mac, I've been recalled to the navy…"

"You've been what!"

Harm heard the sudden rise in the pitch of her voice and winced, this was in a definite, 'look, this is me having a sense of humour failure; if this is a joke it is not funny!' tone of voice.

Harm sighed, "The Secretary of the Navy has issued an order for the reactivation of my active duty status, and I have to report to the new JAG HQ in DC's Navy Yard at oh-eight-hundred hours Monday."

Mac felt tears gathering in her eyes, and she could feel her heart thundering in her chest. "But… but… why… how?"

"Honey, I'm so sorry… I tried to get him to change his mind… but he was adamant. I said I'd refuse and he told me that a repetition of that threat would only ever be made from behind bars… I know it's not any consolation, but I'm not the only one, Alison Krennick is being recalled, so are Caitlin Thomas, and Stevie Baxter to the navy and McBurney and some guy called Phelps to the Marine Corps. Since the Falls Church attack JAG hasn't got enough field-grade attorneys to do the work that's piling up. Didn't you ask the General for some help?"

"Don't try to push the blame for this on me Harm!"

"I'm not blaming you, Mac. If anyone's to blame it's those sick bastards that fired the missile at the JAG building, and maybe that slimy political son-of-a-bitch in the SecNav's Office too."

"Yeah? But don't try to tell me that you're not happy about this - you never wanted to leave the navy in the first place!"

"Mac," he said gently and with the unhappiness evident in his voice, "that's just not true. When it came to choosing between you and the navy, there was no contest, it was you."

"Yeah, so why did we have to flip that damn coin, then?"

"Because we were… undecided, neither of us would… no… neither of us could choose which of us would make…"

"Make the sacrifice? Is that what you were going to say? Is that all I am the fruits of a sacrifice?"

"Mac, you know that's not true! And no, that's not what I was going to say! I was going to say decision! Mac, you know I love you, and…"

"Yeah? You love me? Well, you've got a hell of a way of showing it! I need you back here, not off somewhere half-way round the world playing Goddam Popeye!"

"Mac, I'm as unhappy about this as you are…"

"Go to hell, Harmon Rabb!"

The volume of Mac's voice had been rising steadily and by the time she had screamed her frustration at him she had been clearly audible to Trish and Mattie in the lounge, who exchanged worried looks. Mattie said tentatively, "Maybe one of us should go talk with her…"

"No, I don't think that's a good idea, honey."

"But I… we need to know if Harm's given his consent for the surgery… and Mac sounded so upset, I'm scared that he's said no…"

Trish smiled sympathetically, "Honey, if Mac's that upset, then I know Harm is too. I don't know what those two were fighting bout, but Mac sound pretty distressed."

"Distressed? Is that what you call, Trish? She just sounded mad to me."

"Yes, she did, but when she gets mad at Harm, it gets her upset too, and," she continued, as the thought occurred to her, "that's not going to be good for the baby, either. H'mm, perhaps I had better go speak with her… no honey, you stay here…"

Knocking on Mac's bedroom door Trish heard a muffled "Go 'way!" from inside. Ignoring the instruction, Trish opened the door to see a pale-faced and tear-stained Mac hunched at the foot of the bed.

"Well, Sarah MacKenzie, this is a fine how-d'ye-do! What's with all the fuss and feathers? We could hear you downstairs as plain as day! Why Frank could probably hear you back in La Jolla!" Trish had taken one look at Mac and had decided that overt sympathy was not the medicine in this case, and had adopted a bracing bullying tone in its stead. "Just look at you! She continued, "you're a mess! This is not what I'd expect to see from a Lieutenant Colonel of Marines, still less what I expect from my daughter-in-law!"

"Yes! But I won't be that for much longer!" a furious and tearful Mac retorted, "As soon as offices open tomorrow, I'm looking for an attorney - I'm not putting up with this! I want a divorce!"

"Hah! And the good lord knows what effect that will have on the baby! You do want this child, I suppose? If you don't want it, a termination would be easier than forcing a miscarriage!"

The scorn in Trish's voice as well as the brutal nature of her words penetrated Mac's anger, and she stopped what she was about to say, before the words made it from her heated brain to her lips. Blinking she dashed the tears away from her eyes and said quietly, "That was a horrible, despicable thing to say, and I want you out of my house, now!"

"Well, at last you've realised what it is to want." Trish replied caustically, "but we don't always get what we want, do we? And you're certainly not getting your wants this time. So why don't you settle down, and while you're doing that, I'll put the kettle on and then you can tell me, without getting all hysterical, just what's got you all fired up?"

Mac glared at her mother-in-law, "Oh yes, that is so typical of you! Make a cup of tea and everything will be OK! Well, it's not OK and it's not going to be OK!" her voice rising to a yell as the words came tumbling out.

Trish was not easily intimidated, not even when faced with a raging Marine Officer. "You're probably right, the tea probably won't fix anything, but the time spent brewing it will allow a few minutes for tempers to cool, because, Sarah, I am just about as angry as you are at the moment, and I don't know what you're angry about, but I am angry at the way you're behaving! Not only is this tantrum endangering your baby, but I left Mattie downstairs going out her mind with worry. And I don't care what sort of fight you've had with Harmon, or how mad you are at each other, I know he wouldn't want you to put your child at risk. Now I'm going down to the kitchen and I'm going to make a pot of tea. So for goodness sake, wash your face, brush your hair, count to ten, hell, count to a thousand if you want, but cool off, and then come downstairs and speak with me, not at me, and let's see if we can't sort things out without any more nonsense about lawyers and divorces."

Without giving Mac the chance to reply, Trish turned and made her way to the ground floor kitchen, where she was joined by an anxious Mattie, "Trish, what are they fighting about?" the girl asked.

"Mattie, dear, I don't know. Mac's very upset about something, and I'm hoping she'll come down in a few minutes so we can talk it out, and maybe we can find a way to help them make up and kiss each other better." Trish, despite her words to Mattie, also looked anxious, and Mattie thought, older than she had just half an hour ago. "There is one thing you can do to help, Mattie, if, when Sarah comes downstairs, she'll probably find it easier to talk if it's only me here. So, I know you want, and probably need to know what's going on, but it would be better if you go and do your homework. Sarah can tell you what you'll need to know once she's calmed down and yelled at me for a bit."

Trish busied herself setting out mugs, cream and sugar on the table and once the kettle had boiled and the tea been allowed to brew for a few minutes she poured for herself and Mattie. The two sipped in silence as they waited to see if Mac would join them. They were not kept waiting long, Mac appeared in the kitchen doorway, almost as silently as the ghost in the Scottish Play, and Mattie taking a look at her still red-rimmed eyes decided that perhaps she should do as Trish had asked, although she had been of a mind to stay where she was and get the intel she wanted at first hand.

Mumbling an excuse about having homework to do, she looked anxiously at Mac, and then as moved past her to the door, Mattie look back at Trish and mouthed 'please, fix this' at her.

Trish waited until Mac had taken the seat directly opposite her, placing the table as a barrier squarely between them, and then wordlessly poured a mug of tea. Mac accepted the offering in silence and then added three spoons of sugar to the mug and stirred it in. It was only after taking a sip of the now sweet and sticky liquid she raised her head and looking at Trish asked, "Well?"

"Well what?" Trish's tone in contrast with the angry and caustic voice she had used while upstairs was now blandly neutral.

"Well, aren't you going to ask what's wrong?"

"Sarah, I am not going to play 'Twenty Questions' with you. You're angry, and you have never been able to be quietly angry. So you'll tell me what's wrong, when you're ready, and it looks to me," she added shrewdly, "that you're about ready now."

Mac absently mindedly added another spoon of sugar to her mug, and while idly stirring it in to the tea, said "He's been recalled."

Trish knew who 'he' was but was mystified by 'recalled'. "Recalled to where, Sarah? Isn't that you wanted, to have back in San Diego, that's where his firm is based, isn't it?"

"Oh, no, Trish, your son, my husband, hasn't been called back to San Diego by his company; he's been called back to DC by the US Navy!" Seeing Trish still baffled expression, Mac went on, "The Secretary of the Navy has ordered Harm back to active duty status."

To say Trish was startled qualified as an understatement, "To the navy? Back on active duty - but can they do that?"

"It seems so, they've certainly done it to retired enlisted to make up shortfalls in personnel because of Iraq and Afghanistan; they even called back Bud Roberts' father! And now it seems that they can do it to officers too!"

"But, what shortfalls can they possibly have in lawyers… oh, Falls Church, I suppose?"

"Exactly."

"Well, that's not his fault, Sarah. Why get upset at him over something that is outside his say-so?"

"Because… he never wanted to give up the navy in the first place, he even called giving it up for me a sacrifice…"

"When did he ever say that to you, Sarah?"

Mac waved a hand in the general direction of the stairs, "Just now when we were on the 'phone…"

"Sarah, Harm loves you so much, do you really think he believes he sacrificed anything for you? That when he had to choose, he didn't happily choose you over the navy?"

"No, Trish, he only resigned when that coin came down the wrong way up… for him. He's not happy, I tried so hard to make him happy, but he's not. All these weeks he's been in DC, he could have come home earlier, but no, he's been staying with Bud and Harriett Roberts, and I know he's had all his friends from JAG visit with him. He must be happier there than here. Did you know he was going to quit his job? He said he wasn't happy there. But, Trish, I'm so afraid that what he meant was that he wasn't happy, here, with me!"

"Oh Sarah, no, no… you're so wrong there. If I know my son, he's hurting over this as much as you are. He wants to be here with you as much as you want him here. And Sarah, if he does miss the navy, it's only natural that he should, he was a sailor for so long, it's a huge part of him. Would you have been able to settle down so quickly, leaving the Corps after all those years that you served? Remember why you flipped that coin, it was because neither of you could decide whose path should be followed. If they're calling him back now, they know that the two of you are married to each other, and wasn't official disapproval the reason one of you had to step down?"

"No! It wasn't that at all Trish! It was because the navy was going to put six thousand miles between us! And that's why Harm proposed, because I was like a damn' security blanket for him, and he could stand the thought of anyone taking it away from him!"

Trish stared in dismay at Mac, had she just accidentally revealed her own reason for accepting Harm's proposal? To cover her confusion, she said, "But if they're recalling him as an attorney, then surely they'll station him with you?

"They can't," Mac denied, "they won't station a husband and wife in the same command. Trish, he could end up anywhere in the world - they could send him to Europe, or… or… anywhere, they could assign him shipboard duty… or send him to Afghanistan… or God, what if they send him to a carrier and he goes back to flying! And he would! If Harm get assigned a carrier he'll talk his way back into the cockpit again, I know he will! Oh, Trish I couldn't stand that. Every time he went up I was terrified that he wouldn't come back! How many times has he crashed now? He was nearly killed twice! Meg McLellan was here this afternoon; she used to be Meg Austin, his partner before me and we were looking at photographs, there was one of three of them in dress whites, they were at a pilot's funeral, and the third officer with Harm and Meg was a girl called Tess McKee, she was a pilot too, and she crashed and was killed only a few months after the photograph was taken. How many times have you seen the 'missing man' flown out of Miramar? Trish, so many of his friends from his flying days are dead. I want Harm alive, I want him here, safe with me and our baby!"

All Trish could do was to reach out and grasp Mac's hand in her own, while she helplessly watched her daughter-in-law's distress.


	21. 20 October 2007 am

**AN: **I have tightened up the chapter structure for the story, and what used to be 39 chapters is now 22. Nothing has been taken out, and a couple lines have been added to this and the next chapter to try to make sense of, and to fix, a mistake I made in the time line. So sorry if you were expecting fresh material here. It is on the way. soon. Thanks**  
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**Saturday 20 October 2007**

Jen floundered her way out of sleep, she couldn't, for a few seconds, understand why she had woken while it was still dark outside, then as her mind came fully alert, she realised that it was her cell 'phone, insistently ringing, that had dragged her into wakefulness. She fumbled for the switch on her bedside lamp and turning it on she squinted at the alarm clock next to it. Twenty to three! She groaned, this couldn't be happening, but then with a lurch of her stomach she realised that no-one would call at this hour unless it was an emergency! Coming fully awake, she picked up the 'phone and her anxiety increased, the caller ID indicated that it was Harm.

"H'lo?"

"Jen, it's Harm, I'm sorry to wake you so early…

"Harm! … What's wrong…? Is it Mac?" Even she could hear the panic in her voice.

"No, no, it's nothing like that! I'm stuck at the airport is all, and I could do with a ride, there seems to be a shortage of cabs at this time of night."

Exasperated Jen sank back on to her pillow. She was just so tempted to say no, and to tell him to call Mac, when the thought struck her that he might be trying to conceal that something was wrong with Mac, and that he was trying to protect his wife's privacy or trying to prevent Jen from worrying. She sighed and said, "OK, give me twenty minutes, where are you?"

"I'll be at the pick-up point at terminal one. Thanks, Jen."

Jen struggled out of bed, and quickly pulling on jeans and a sweat shirt, she tied her hair back in her time-saving pony tail and trying not to make a noise, she let herself out the apartment.

Just fifteen minutes later she saw the tall figure of Harmon Rabb standing next to a suitcase and go-bag at the kerbside. Braking gently to a halt, she popped the trunk and got out of the car to help him, over his protests, to load his case and bag, it was only after they had gotten into the car that Jen saw that Harm's face showed anxiety as well as the tiredness she expected to see at this time of day after a flight from one coast to the other.

"Something is wrong, sir, what's going on? Is it Mattie?" Jen asked as she selected 'Drive' and took her foot of the brake.

"Mattie? No, why, what's wrong with Mattie?"

"Oh, nothing wrong, sir, it's just that she had her scan yesterday, and…"

"She's had her scan?"" he interrupted her, in surprise.

"Yes, at Hillcrest…" Jen began to explain.

"And she didn't even let me know that…" he muttered tiredly.

"Sir?"

"Nothing, Jen, just take me home please?" He turned and smiled wearily at her.

Jen watched as Harm unloaded his baggage from the trunk and then as he walked across the yard and let himself into his house. She shook her head, although Harm had protested that it was tiredness that had depressed him, Jan felt that something, somewhere had gone badly wrong, and she knew that if it had, tehn either Harm, Mac or Mattie would be calling her very soon. Hating that she now had to work today, she called for Harm to wait, "If you need, if any of you need me today," she told him, "I'll be in the office; Commander McLellan has called a working weekend."

Harm smiled in wry sympathy and murmured, "Thanks, Jen," before he unlocked the door, and quietly put his luggage down in the hallway, and kicking off his shoes climbed the stars and quietly entered the bedroom that he shared with Mac. Stripping down to his boxers, he slid into bed and moved into a spoon position behind Mac as she lay curled up on her side. He had thought that he could guess Mac's reactions to just about anything, but the way she had flown off the handle yesterday evening had shaken him, and not too sure of what her reaction to his unannounced arrival would be, he was careful not to come into physical contact with her.

His orders from the Secretary of the Navy and his subsequent argument with the politician, followed closely by the anger-filled tirade from Mac has prompted him into calling his second chair and telling him that the wrap-up for the grand jury was all his, and that he was going back to San Diego on urgent business. Bud and Harriett and greeted his recall with pleasure at what they saw as his good fortune, but were unhappier with his immediate departure for the west coast, and pressed him to stay for one more night and take the trip during the day rather than on the late flight from Dulles. His attempt to obfuscate his reasons for the Roberts' benefit had failed totally, Bud had taken one look at his face and had said "The Colonel's not taking this well, is she, sir?"

Harm had stiffened, Bud and Harriett might be two of his long-standing friends, in some ways they were almost family, but he had no intention of discussing his and Mac's relationship with them, or with anybody else, but he had been staying as their guest for over a month, and he did owe them something more than just an abrupt goodbye. "Bud, Harriett, no, Mac's not too happy, and neither am I. When we got engaged, when I resigned, it was because we couldn't serve together in the same command, and we decided that we weren't going to be separated in the future. Now I'm recalled and I'm under orders to report to JAG, and who knows where the navy will send me. So, no, we're not in the best of moods."

Harriett, who had known of the impending decision to recall several JAG to active duty and also knew what their assignments would be, was burning with impatience to tell him, but suggested diffidently, "Harm, why don't you call General Cresswell, see if he can give you some idea of what he's got in mind for you?"

"Do you know, Harriett?"

"Harm, you know even if I did, and I can neither confirm nor deny that, I couldn't tell you."

Harm had given her a skeptical look but had taken her advice, and retiring to his room for privacy had called the man who from Monday was to be his Commanding Officer. Now at home in San Diego he thought, he hoped, that what he had learned about the nature of his new appointment would help mend the unexpected breach that had suddenly grown between himself and his wife.

Jen returned to her apartment and moodily contemplated the chances of getting back to sleep, and if she did, of waking up again early enough to get her run before going to work. Deciding that the odds against achieving both those objectives were not the best she decided that she could at least make some beneficial us of the next two hours by catching up on one of her overdue psychology assignments, and decision made, she moved back into the lounge and powered up her PC.

Two hours later, she stretched and yawned; she had made good progress in writing up her analysis of the information gathered through a two-tailed research programme into attitudes in the informal use of language, and was now ready, she grinned to herself, for a bit of physical rather than mental fatigue.

At about the same time as Jen was making a move away from her PC, Mac was making a move of her own. She half woke to the feeling that she was not alone, aware of a warmth behind her, she reached back and found Harm's forearm and pulled it across her waist so his hand fell across her abdomen, where she held it place, while at the same time she squirmed backwards across the bed until her butt was pressed into her husband's groin. Still half asleep, she relished the warmth and comfort of her dream, until her mind started ringing its alarm bells. This was either the most vivid, life-like dream ever, or there was something wrong with this picture. Harm was in DC, it had only been last evening when she had screamed at him down the telephone line. So if Harm was in DC, then who the hell was in bed with her?

Frantically throwing off the very real arm draped across her waist, she scooted across to the far edge of the bed and jolted herself into a sitting position, clutching a pillow against her torso as she looked at the intruder in her bed. A sigh relief broke from her, it_ was_ Harm. The flash of relief was almost immediately succeeded by a flush of anger. She was still mad at him about last night, and that anger had been fresh-fuelled by the scare he had just given her. The guttural scream she gave as she lashed out with the pillow was a mixture of anger, fear and frustration and could only be described as primal, while the energy she put into the swing of the pillow not only jolted Harm wide awake, but the force of the impact on his shoulder made him grateful that it was bag of feathers she had used and not a length of four by two!

"Hey! Cut it out!" He yelled in alarm, throwing up an arm to fend off a second incoming pillow strike, "Hey! Stand down, Marine!"

Mac winding up for another swing stared at him with rage in her eyes and if not murder in her heart, at least the burning desire to inflict some damage, "You… you…" she stuttered.

Harm keeping a wary eye on the pillow she still held in a two-handed grip, offered "Husband? Darling? Beloved?"

"No!" she screamed at him, "You bastard!"

Warily he eased across the bed towards her, so that he was inside the most effective arc if the pillow's swing, and placed his hands on hers, gently restraining her attempts to break free of his grip. "Now, Sarah MacKenzie" he said gently but firmly, "if anyone has got a right to be mad here, it's me!"

She looked at him blankly, his use of that form of her name getting through the walls of anger she built, her mouth working as she tried to ask him what the hell he was talking about.

"Didn't we have an agreement that if we got mad at each other, we would try and talk it out, not just storm out of the room?"

Grudgingly she nodded her agreement.

"Wouldn't you say that slamming the 'phone down is just about the same as storming out of the room?

Again she was forced to nod.

"So, you broke our deal; in my book that gives me the right to be mad at you. But I'm not, because you need to take on board a couple of things; one you should know, and one that you don't know, because I didn't know and so I couldn't tell you, OK?"

Mac's reluctant "Yes…" wasn't a whole-hearted endorsement of his position, but it was a start, he thought.

"Well, then, first off, remember this: I love you Sarah MacKenzie. Secondly, this whole damn' mess is not, repeat not, any sort of plan of mine to renege on our engagement deal. And thirdly, Harriett suggested I spoke to Biff Cresswell about what was coming up. I'm actually beginning to like the man. He knows how stressed you are, and it seems he has got some idea of how difficult you're finding things. I think his Household Six has been reading him in." Harm paused for breath while he judged Mac's non-verbal responses to his attempt to lighten the mood.

"Go on," she grated, still unimpressed.

"Like I said, I have been recalled, but my O-6 still stands, and frocking has been authorized until the promotion is verified, so you can't hit me any more" he joked, "but the best bit is my appointment. As an O-6, I can only be appointed to a command or to a senior staff position. It would be unfair to officers already in command appointments to assign me to any of the JSLT's, and because Cresswell knows of our situation, my assignment is to be Staff Judge Advocate to HQ COMNAVAIRPAC." He paused, waiting for his words to be processed by his still angry wife.

Mac stared at him, O-6? He now outranked her again? This was intolerable! COMNAVAIRPAC? Commander Naval Air Forces Pacific? But… that headquarters was on North Island, here in San Diego! She could see the building from the top floor corridor window at the JSLT building. But naval air…? Oh, no. No, no. no.

"You'll be here, in San Diego?" she needed to hear him say it.

"Yes, I'll be here. As a Staff Judge Advocate. That means an eight to five office routine; no deployments, no investigations, no TADs, no nothing."

"And no flying?" she asked, with a hint of desperation.

"No, definitely no flying, the F-14 is being phased out, my quals have lapsed, and I'm too old to learn to fly another bird, and my body's too old to take many more deck-landings. So from now on in, I'm grounded; I'm a Penguin, I've got wings, but I can't fly. Anyway, with our family about to increase, I will not take unnecessary risks; I'm not having our child grow up without a father because daddy was dumb enough to fly into the ground."

Mac even through the remains of her anger could hear the sorrow in his voice, although he tried to put a brave face on it. With a sudden insight she realised that he was not just saying goodbye to flying, he was finally letting go of Peter Pan. She dropped the pillow and said in a husky voice, "Oh, Harm, I'm so glad…"

Harm wasn't quite sure exactly what she was glad about, but he was willing to accept an armistice, so he held an arm out to her and she almost fell across his chest. Her emotions were in a mess, and she didn't know whether the tears she felt so close to the surface were of sorrow for his loss or joy for their gain.

Miles Caldwell had also woken early, he had postponed his trip in the hope that Jen would accompany him, but in the face of her refusing his invitation, he saw no need to put off any further what was fast becoming urgent business. After breakfast in the hotel's dining room he returned to his suite and picking up the 'phone he made a series of 'phone calls.

"Mike, this is Miles Caldwell, I want you to prep the Lear and file a flight plan for 'Vegas, I want wheels up at eleven-hundred, please. I shall be travelling alone. I shall need the plane to wait at Las Vegas until you hear from me. If it's an overnighter, do you have somewhere you can stay…? OK, that's fine. I'll see you at about ten-forty-five, thanks, Mike""

"American Airlines? Miss Webster please… Hello, Isabel? Hi, it's Miles Caldwell, I'd like an open-ended return ex Las Vegas to DC, departing any flight tomorrow morning, before ten hundred hours please… Yes, of course First Class, both ways… No, I'm not sure yet where'll I be, so I'll pick them up at the desk when I check in… You have my card number still on file…? Fine, thanks… how're Bob and Sarah? … Well, say 'hi' to Bob for me, and give my love to Sarah. OK, and you too then… 'bye.

"Las Vegas Mandalay? Reservations please. Good morning, this is Miles Caldwell, is my regular suite available for tonight? No… just tonight, thank you. Fine. I'll be arriving sometime this afternoon, or early evening, by private aircraft, please have a car and driver pick up me and bring me to the hotel. Thank you."

"George? Good morning it's Miles. Did you get that paper I asked for? Good, what's the bottom line… 3.9? OK, that's good. Now what I want you to do is get me a rental from Dulles, to be picked up tomorrow afternoon or evening, no I don't have an ETA… because I don't know what flight I'll be on! And have Consuela alert her sister, I'll be in town for a couple of days, maybe four, so I'll need the apartment opened up and aired and ask Consuela to tell her sister to put something in the fridge for tomorrow night, nothing fancy, just something I can nuke. Got all that? Thanks… oh, and tell Julia that I still say you're one hell of a lucky guy!"

"Hello, Jennifer? Hi, this is Miles… No, no… I just called to say that I've had to bring my trip out of town forward after all. No, Jennifer I'm not mad at you. I'll be back by Monday at the latest, and I'll call you then. Yeah, goodbye, take care."

Jen replaced the handset on the desk 'phone and scowled at it. She was not having the best day of her life, she reckoned. Being woken up so early had played havoc with her body clock. She had, she thought, become soft since re-qualifying as a Legalman; when she had been an Electronics Technician she had stood shipboard watches with no problem. Now short of just a couple of hours sleep she could barely concentrate, and that had brought its own problems. Commander McLellan had wanted to know why it was taking Jen so long to produce the final copies of the draft reports she'd been working on all morning.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Jen had replied, "but I'm all fingers and thumbs this morning, and I know that I'm making a huge number of mistakes, so I'm having to be really careful proof reading."

Meg McLellan looked her a bit more carefully. Legalman Coates did look rather drawn, but she wasn't a teenager, she was in her mid-twenties and should be responsible enough to regulate her life so that the effects of her off duty time did not negatively impact her performance while on duty.

"Might I suggest, Legalman that a little more rest and a little less play might help in reducing the finger fumbles?"

"Yes, ma'am!" was the only response available to a suddenly fuming Jen, unless she were to embark on a lengthy explanation, that would even to her own ears only sound like excuses.

Just great, she thought, as hit the keys with more force but less accuracy than usual, now running around after the Rabbs is dropping me in the smelly stuff at work. Why the hell didn't Harm call Mac to pick him, or, and memories of some spectacular arguments that last year at Falls Church cropped up, have they been fighting again?

"Harm?"

"H'mm?" he raised his head slightly off the pillow and squinted own at the top of Mac's head as it lay on his pectoral muscle.

"How did you get here from the airport last night?"

"I got a ride from Jen Coates."

"_She_ knew you were coming home?" The slight emphasis on the pronoun was enough to make Harm think that he might be getting into deeper water than he wanted to, and that he needed to look out for, if not sharks, then at least jellyfish.

"No, I was going to get a cab from the airport, but there was a long line of people waiting and very few cabs, so I called her and asked her to come and pick me up."

"Why didn't you just call me?"

Oh, no, Harm thought, remaining silent, I am _not_ falling for that one.

"Is it because we were fighting?" Mac persisted.

"Well, yes, partly, but partly because I knew you were supposed to be on hospital mandated bed-rest, and I did not want my pregnant wife driving around San Diego in the early hours of the morning when she should be in bed asleep. And that is the same reason I had for not waking you when I got home."

"Uh-huh, I'm sorry for losing it like that last night, but it was the last thing I'd expected to hear, especially when I was so excited, and had some news or you…"

"Yes?"

"Trish and I took Mattie for her MRI at Hillcrest, yesterday evening. Tony Cameron was right, there is a stenosis, and he says it's operable, although it will need a not quite as simple a procedure as he would have liked. He says it should be done quickly, but as I have no legal relationship with Mattie, he needs you to sign the consent forms, ASAP."

Harm stayed silent while he digested the information, until Mac, losing patience gave him a little shake, "It is good news, isn't it, Harm?"

"Yes, it is… I suppose… if it all goes well, I shall need to speak with him and Mattie before I say yes, or no. What time is it now?" He reached for his watch on the night stand.

"Oh seven-oh-four hours," Mac told him.

"Damn, every time I go away, I have to get used to looking at my watch, and then when I come home I have to get used to asking you again!"

"But you won't be going away again, will you?"

"No, I would never go away again, if I have anything to do with it! But there will be meetings and conferences that we'll both have to go to. We can't hope that the JAG conference will be held here every year, so for at least one week we'll both have to be in DC… if we can… But that's going to have to wait for another time. Now I'm awake I've got things to do, I need to get my uniform trunk down from the loft and get check to make sure I've got a decent set of summer whites for Monday. Then I'll have call Doctor Cameron and set up a meeting, but first I ought to take Mattie to school," he finished, throwing off the coverlet and going to his closet for his bathrobe.

"Oh… don't you want to… get reacquainted?" asked Mac, her disappointment evident.

"Yes, I do… but not right at this minute. With mom and Mattie about to be up and about, I wouldn't be comfortable, and we need to be comfortable… especially this time. Mac, we've got a lot of healing to do, we've managed to hurt each other again, and I want to be sure that when we try, we get it absolutely right."

She looked at him with troubled eyes, "Harm…"

He sat down again on the edge of the bed and pulled her in close to him, "Mac, we've been married just over a year, but we've done this too many times in the past, even before we married, but then we could back off, back away from each other and give each other space and time. Now when we fight we haven't got space or time to back off, not when we share the same house, the same bed. Yes, we fight, we have great make up sex, and sometimes we even say we're sorry for fighting. I love you; never, ever forget that. I have loved you since I met you in the Rose Garden, and you've told me that you love me, but Mac, we can't go on like this, not now. With a baby coming into our lives, we have got to set things on an even keel.

Mac was silent for a moment, but then hearing the sincerity in his voice, she looked up at him and saw the pain in his eyes and knew just how difficult it had been for him to tell her how he was feeling, and in her heart she acknowledged the truth of what he had said. She got the sense that he was waiting to hear her reaction, "What you say… makes sense…," she said fitting the words to her feelings, "I admit that I used to test you, to push you, to see how far I could go, and then when you didn't go away, I'd get scared… scared of commitment… and back pedal, and try and run away, but you never let me get far enough away, but I was never sure.. never sure that you loved me, never sure that I loved you enough to marry you, and then when my body let me down, and I felt that I couldn't be a proper woman, I hated myself, and I didn't believe that anyone could still love me. But you showed me just how wrong I was about that. You'd told me that you always wanted a family, and now I thought I couldn't give you one, and you'd hate me for it. I saw how happy you were with Mattie and Jen in your life, and even though it was only a make-believe family, even I could see that you had found something, and then it all fell apart when Mattie went back to her father, and I saw your hurt, but I was still too selfish, too scared to help you, or even admit my feelings to myself; I'd hurt you so many times before that I was scared that I'd killed your love, and I couldn't face you rejecting me. Harm, I am so glad that Cresswell cut those orders for us, because it was only then, faced with maybe years apart that we had the guts to recognise what we needed. I have never been happier than I have in these last twelve months, with you as my husband, and this precious, new life in my womb. I know I am still a mess of contradictions and contrariness, but I also know that you are the one good, constant, thing in my life. I love you too Harmon Rabb; and I am not going to lose _you_ by giving up on _us_. Harm, we are both strong people; we've stood together against the Russians, the cartels, the Taliban, Al Qaeda; the only people who could ever beat us are ourselves, and that's not going to happen either."

Harm looked at her, that was the nearest he had ever heard Mac come to try and explain herself, to reveal her insecurities about herself as a woman, things that he had half-guessed maybe, but that had never before been brought out into the open by either of them. Maybe, just maybe, if they worked at this they could save themselves.

"OK, what say we take a break just about now, that we give ourselves time to think about what we want to say _to_ each other, and not what we want to yell _at_ each other. I'll take Mattie to school. And we'll talk about whether or not she wants this operation. Once I've heard what she's said, I'll go and see Tony Cameron. In the meantime, you pack a go-bag for a two nighter and ask mom if she'll stay for an extra couple of nights, while I make arrangements for us to go somewhere we can relax and talk this thing through, and maybe," he smiled, "even try to get reacquainted."

He smiled at Mac, who managed a weak smile of her own in return as he left the bedroom for the bathroom. With the experience of years in the navy Harm was showered and dressed and busy in the kitchen before he heard Mattie stumping down the stairs. She stopped open mouthed in disbelief at the kitchen door, before throwing her sticks to one side she launched herself at him, shrieking, "Harm! Harm! Dammit, you're back! Have you finished in DC? Are you home for good?"

"Whoof!" The air exploded from his lungs as the Mattie-missile hit him right in the numbers, "Hey, easy, Tiger!" He remonstrated as she wound her arms tightly around his neck and burrowed deep in his hug. "Sit down, before you fall down, here," he guided her to a chair and made sure she was secure before he bent to pick up her sticks and placing them with her reach and without asking placed a loaded plate in front of her. Her eyes went round with surprised delight as she exclaimed "Blueberry pancakes! We haven't had blueberry pancakes, since… since before you went to Washington!"

He grinned at her greedy enthusiasm, "Well, that's because Mac can't make pancakes, so she doesn't try any more. And I'll let you into a little secret; there never was a marine who could make half decent pancakes!"

Mattie giggled at his attempt at making a joke even if it was at the expense of Mac's beloved Corps. "I don't know if you ought to be making those remarks around me, I haven't decided yet what colour uniform I'll wear when I graduate from Annapolis!"

Harm shot a suspicious glance at her. She had never before even mentioned the possibility that she might elect to be commissioned in the marines rather than in the navy; Mattie's face was a shade too innocent and just a shade too much averted from his own for her not to be indulging in a little game of her own.

"How do you know that you'll get into the academy? After all you might not get the recommendation letters you need."

It was Mattie's turn to be suspicious, she glowered at him and said, "Oh, I'll get the letters, alright, I know lots of officers who'll write them for me. There's General Cresswell, Commander Roberts, Commander Turner, all my old friends from Falls Church!"

"Ah, but you haven't mentioned the one who knows you best, one of the finest legal minds still in the navy!"

Mattie was honestly confused, she ran down a quick mental list but other than Mac she couldn't think of anyone, and Mac was a marine, not navy. "Who's that then?" she demanded, "who have I missed?"

"Captain Harmon Rabb, Junior." He told her in the most matter of fact tone he could muster.

"But that's you," she protested.

"Yep," he grinned, he was enjoying her confusion.

"But, you said still in the navy."

"Yep."

"But you're not in the navy, any more… are you?" An element of doubt was creeping into her voice, although she was still plainly baffled.

"Yes, Mattie, I am. With effect from Monday, I am back in the navy. They've recalled several recently retired JAGs to help make up for the losses at Falls Church."

Mattie's face fell, "does that mean you'll be going back to Virginia?"

"No, there's going to be some shifting around to fit people into the best suited billets, and I am going to be the staff Judge Advocate at Commander Navy Air Pacific Fleet."

"Oh… you're going to sea?" Mattie's face fell further and the disappointment in her voice was plain to hear.

"No, Mattie it's a shore job… at North Island, here in San Diego. I'm home for good!"

Mattie stared at him, eyes wide open and her mouth in an "Oh" of astonishment. A mouthful of maple syrup drenched pancake slipped off her raised fork to slide unheeded down the front of her shirt and land on her jeans. "Does this mean that you and Mac are going to stop fighting?" she asked at length.

"Oh, Mattie, I do, do hope so," said Mac from the kitchen doorway.

Mac and Harm's eyes locked across the width of the kitchen, neither speaking until Mattie broke the silence. "Ew! Will you two cut it out and get a room! Puhlease!"

"Yes, Mattie, that's exactly what we're going to do," Harm answered her.

Harm took advantage of a red light to look across at Mattie, "So you're feeling pretty confident about your chances of making it to the academy, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm getting A's except for Lit and Calculus, that's a C and a B, but I'm getting help with the Calculus. That's why the Saturday school, and Mrs Bronsen reckons I should ace the SATs, so with a couple of good recommends, I should get in."

"What about your back and legs?" He asked gently.

"Tony Cameron said he could fix them!" She said enthusiastically, a grin of excited anticipation spreading across her face.

"That's not absolutely true, is it Mattie?" he asked in a concerned voice.

"Harm, I am not going to think negative thoughts about this! Tony Cameron is going to fix my back, and I'll be able to get my life back. I am going to the academy, I am going to be a navy officer, and I'm going to fly - in the front seat!"

"Not a marine, then? I'm told they have pilots too..."

"But I never met anyone who admitted to being one!" She finished the old joke for him. "No, I admire Mac, but it's definitely the navy for me!"

Harm smiled, but he was still worried. He would remain worried until he had made up his mind whether he would sign off on the consent forms that this Tony Cameron needed to go ahead on Mattie's procedure. If he did sign off on the forms he would then worry about the risks of Mattie having to have a general anaesthetic, the success or otherwise of the surgery, and if the surgery was successful he would worry about the outcome of the physical therapy that would follow. But worst of all, if the surgery was unsuccessful he would worry about the effect it would have on the vibrant teenager sitting beside him. He sighed to himself and silently admitted that he must have been a born worrier.

He really didn't want to do this, but... "Mattie, I'm not sure that I want to sign off on these consent forms..." He waited, expecting, tears and a tantrum.

"You scared?" The calm, matter of fact tone surprised him so much that he was only called back to the here and now by the blast of an impatient car horn from behind. Slipping the gear selector back into 'Drive' he took his foot off the brake pedal and let the Lexus move forwards.

"Yes... yes, I am scared... for you."

"You don't need to be, you know."

"Mattie, from what Mac said, this procedure isn't as straightforward and as uncomplicated as we thought it was going to be."

"Yeah, so, whoever said life was guaranteed to be easy? Harm, I'm young, not dumb; I checked Tony out on the web. He's got a good rep, some of the write-ups about him are fantastic, and besides, I've been in and out of the MedCen for nearly a year now and none of the doctors or physical therapists ever questioned what the doctors at Blacksburg said, but he took one look at me, and after ten minutes could see what was really wrong with me."

"Yes, but..."

"But what, Harm? What if it goes wrong? What if I end up back in a wheelchair?"

"Exactly that!"

"Harm, I love you, and you say that you love me, but look at me. Look at me like you don't know me; what do you see? I'll tell you what you see, you see a cripple; All my friends are out at weekends, dating; I've never had a date, did you know that? I never even went to my Junior Prom because I didn't have a date. What boy wants to date a cripple? I used to play volleyball and softball, I used to throw the javelin, and swim. Now look at me, all I can do is watch from the sidelines, and I'm sick of watching, I'm sick of being a cripple. I want to go to the academy, I want to fly. The way I am now, that's all just a dream, but it could still come true... Sure, it might go all pear-shaped, but at least I'll have tried."

Harm felt a sharp pang. He knew just how reluctant Mattie was about discussing the way her injuries affected her life. For her to suddenly become so open about her feelings was, he felt, an indication of just how, despite her usual cheeriness, unhappy she was. "You really, really want to do this, Mattie?"

"Yes, I do, but I don't even stand a chance of getting what I want, unless I get this surgery, and I can't do that unless you sign the papers. Yeah, I know I'm not far off my birthday, but I won't be able to get insurance, not when I'm like this... Please, Harm?"

"Alright, Mattie, I'll talk to Doctor Cameron, and see what he has to say, but right now, I'm not promising anything."

Mattie smiled her thanks at him and settled back in her seat. He hadn't promised anything, but at least he was back in San Diego and was going to talk to Tony. As she thought of Tony she felt herself blush, what the...! She can't have a crush on Tony; she was in love with Stacy. Boy was he going to be surprised when she told that her back was going to be fixed. They might have to put off their plans for a time, but things would be so much better once she was properly back on her feet. After her surgery, her OB/Gyn might even agree that it would be OK for her to have babies... not right now, of course, but sometime in the future, after she was settled in her flying career, and she and Stacy had a permanent home somewhere. Sure he had a glamorous life style; travelling all over the States and living in the best hotels, but that wouldn't do for a family. If there was one thing that her time with Harm and Jen had taught her, it was that families needed a solid foundation.

When she thought back to those few months, she had to laugh at herself, she had tried so hard to bring Harm and Jen closer together, she'd thought that they'd make a beautiful couple, and if they could have got married, then they could have adopted her and been a real family. And, if Jen and Harm had gotten married and adopted her, then she wouldn't have gone back to her dad, and it would have been Harm teaching her to fly, and she wouldn't have had that dumb accident. Get a grip of yourself, girl, it's no good day-dreaming about might-have-beens and what-ifs. Now that she was older, she realised that Harm and Jen could never have gotten married, Harm was an officer and Jen was enlisted, and it had taken forever for Harm to get Jen to call him anything other than 'sir'; it was just that they'd had so much fun in those apartments in DC. There had been a real sense of togetherness, a real camaraderie, and she and Jen had teased Harm so much, and he had joined in too. Yeah, she'd known almost from the first day she'd met him that he had a sense of humour, a sense of the ridiculous; he had been so funny at times, especially when he put his dad head on! Of course, now that Mac and Harm had gotten married, they were a real family, but she wished that the two of them didn't fight so much. Well, yeah, real families had fights, mom and dad used to fight, but that was mostly about his drinking, but Mac didn't drink and Harm only had an occasional beer, he'd even stopped cooking things that had wine in the recipe.

Her mind circled back to DC, he used to make such amazing sauces for his signature pasta dishes, but now it seemed that whenever they had pasta, it was a bought-in sauce from the store. If Harm and Jen had gotten married, then he might not have given up on cooking. Not that he had completely; those pancakes this morning were good! More so for being so entirely unexpected and for him being there; an equally unexpected and even better event than the pancakes. No, she decided, Harm and Jen could never have worked out; one of them would have had to quit the navy... hey! Wait up! He'd had to quit the navy to be with Mac... so if he'd loved Jen, he could have quit to be with her, so, he can't have loved her... but it was sad for Jen. She had loved him, if the way she had looked at him when she thought nobody was watching was any guide, and, Mattie said to herself, I guess she still does; she still has that look sometimes...She couldn't blame Jen, though; what was there not to love? He was kind, gentle, caring, generous, and yeah, he was still good looking even if he was getting on a bit... What? What was he staring at?

"Yeah? What's up, have I got a smudge on my nose, or something?"

"No," his eyes crinkled in amusement, "I was just waiting for you to come back."

"Huh? Come back from where?"

"Wherever your head was. We've been here for a good five minutes."

"Huh?" Oh, wow, that really sounded intelligent. Hell, we're at school already! "What, you just let me sit here and daydream? Now I've got to run or I'll be late for home-room!"

Harm watched her go with a resigned smile as Mattie slid out of the Lexus and grabbing her school bag langlaufed her way into the school building.

"That's alright, honey, I love you too!" he called after her, and grinned as his words went unheard. Chuckling he engaged drive once more and checking the time on the dashboard clock, he decided he had time to call at for South 32nd Street before he headed for Hillcrest.

Mac headed for the lounge, a cup of tea in her hand. Although those last few minutes of silent communication in the kitchen had been promising, as had Harm's suggestion that they find somewhere private for a couple of nights, she could not help a slight feeling of panic, today was the first time he had ever refused her invitation to make love, it was the first time, she gulped at the realisation, that he had rejected her. Despite her pregnancy her body had not yet changed much, she was still trim with only the beginnings of a bump showing; she wasn't fat or bloated, there was no change that could cause Harm to feel physical revulsion, it can only have been because they were fighting, but, they'd fought before, and they'd always had make-up sex, 'great make-up sex', he'd said; but this morning he had also said, 'Mac, we can't go on like this, not now...' Belatedly it dawned on her, that he had given her an ultimatum. He was tired of fighting with her, and unless she stopped picking fights, he was going to leave her. The thought filled her with despair, but before she could pursue her line of thought, she was interrupted.

"Sarah? Oh, there you are! Was that Harm's voice I heard a little earlier?"

"M'mm," and then looking up Trish, Mac realised that the older woman was looking for more. "Yes, he got in during the small hours."

"Well, where is that son of mine?"

"He's taking Mattie to school, and then he's going up to Hillcrest to see Tony Cameron."

"H'mm, he didn't waste much time in getting out of the door, did he?" Trish's voice was neutral, but maybe with just the undertones of sarcasm.

Trish's comment sent a cold chill through Mac, "No, it's not that, he just has so much to do and so little time in which to do it..."

"Humph. So... did you tell him you wanted a divorce?" The tone was now both disbelieving and cynical.

"No...! Trish, that's the last thing I want!" Mac protested.

"That's not what you said last night, Sarah." Trish said coldly.

"Trish... I said a lot of things last night... a lot of stupid, stupid things... Things that I didn't mean." Mac tried to defend herself.

"So... did you tell Harm that you wanted a divorce?"

"No...! But... this morning, I think he said he wanted one..."

"Nonsense!"

"He... he... he said, we couldn't go on like this," Mac said slowly, once again attempting to articulate her feelings, "that we had to... we had to get back on an even keel..."

"Well, I can certainly appreciate that. The way things have been going this is no family in to which a child should be born!"

Mac winced at the brutal honesty and truth in Trish's declaration. "Yes, we've realised that, Trish. We do need to sit down and talk with each other. That's one of the reasons Harm's gone out, so we can, as he said, 'think about what we want to say to each other, not what we want to yell at each other.' Which means that we have a favour to ask you."

"Yes?" Trish's tone was still not what Mac would call encouraging.

"Well, although Harm's back and it appears for good..."

"Not recalled to the navy, then?" Trish asked in some confusion.

"Oh, yes, he's back. Still Captain Rabb..." Mac couldn't quite keep all the bitterness she felt at being betrayed by the system out of her voice, "but he's been assigned to a staff billet on North Island, so he'll be staying here... I hope," she ended on an optimistic note.

"All well and good then," agreed Trish, her manner thawing slightly. "So, what's this favour?"

"Harm wants us to go away for two nights, so that we can sit down and have that talk, and get back on track, so we need to ask you if, although he's back from DC, you could stay on another couple of nights - just to keep an eye on Mattie?"

Trish regarded her daughter-in-law thoughtfully. Although Mac was temporarily in her bad books, she knew that she wasn't privy to the complete background and history of the latest quarrel between Harm and Mac, and she did not want her son's marriage to end in divorce. To be fair she didn't think it would if the choice were Harm's, not now that Mac was carrying his child, whatever Mac might think. Harm was not one to run out on his responsibilities, neither was he likely to want his own child to grow up without a father. Nevertheless, the two of them did need to sit down and talk this whole marriage through before they did drift into a divorce that neither of them wanted.

"Yes, alright, then. I'll stay on until you get back, do you know where you're going?"

"Thank you, Trish," Mac replied with real gratitude in her voice, "No, I don't know what Harm's got in mind. He said he'd make all the arrangements, but he told me to pack my go-bag," a smile of reminiscence crossed Mac's face as she used a term she hadn't thought of for nearly two years, "so I'll expect he'll want to leave ASAP."

Trish nodded, "Yes, you go on as soon as may be. And, Mac, _do_ get this trouble sorted out, for both your sakes." There was now more warmth in Trish's voice than earlier and she permitted a slight smile of encouragement to show briefly. "Don't worry about Mattie, I'll run her to and from school and make sure she does her homework."

Jen had her head down and was concentrating furiously on her work, she did not want another reprimand from Commander McLellan, however unfairly it might be merited, but after nearly an hour of non-stop typing, she could not resist a huge yawn that she felt must nearly have dislocated her jaw, but stretching as she yawned, she was in time to see Harm walk across the bull-pen towards her office. Sitting back in her chair, and forgetting that earlier she had been annoyed at him, she smiled in greeting, and was taken aback when he slid his hand inside his jacket and brought out a small, flat, gift-wrapped box, "Jennifer, this is just to say thank you for rescuing me from the airport last night."

Keenly aware of curious eyes watching from the bull-pen, Jen flushed and accepting the proffered package hastily stowed it her desk drawer. "Thanks, Harm, but it really wasn't necessary..."

"Yes, it was Jennifer," he smiled, "I must have woken you up at that ungodly hour. So, thank you very much. Now Legalman, and his voice and stance changed completely, becoming stern and curt, "Don't you usually stand to attention when an officer enters your office?"

Shocked and confused she stumbled to her feet, "I... I... don't understand, Har... er... sir?" and then she saw the twinkle in his eye. Her face relaxed, "What's going on, sir... er... Harm?"

"Legalman, you are no longer talking with Harmon Rabb, Esquire, but with Captain Harmon Rabb, Junior, US Navy!" He grinned at her still-puzzled frown, and added in explanation, "Jennifer, I've been recalled. That's what I doing back in San Diego, I've been assigned..."

"Here, sir?" Jen interrupted with breathless anticipation.

"You haven't lost that habit yet, have you Jennifer? No, I've been assigned to North Island Air Station, but you'll read my orders anyway. I would like you to call the General's Yeoman at Falls Chur... Oh, no, they're not there now. Sorry, force of habit. Call Sergeant whatever her name is at HQ JAG and ask her to fax or e-mail a copy of my orders to here. And if you can get straight on to that away, please, I'll just make my number with... Commander McLellan, is it?

Jen just nodded, rendered temporarily incapable of coherent speech.

"I take it she's in Mac's office?"

Jen nodded again.

"Is she free at the moment?"

Another nod.

"Good, no, don't buzz, I'll just knock," following his words with the action, and on hearing the call to enter, he opened the door and turning to Jen as he did so, grinned hugely at her.

"Good morning, Commander McLellan? I'm Captain..."

"Harmon Rabb! Well, I do declare!"

The soft Texas accent, the blonde hair, the blue eyes and the tall, slim figure shocked him into stillness and momentary silence, until he at length found his tongue again. "Woah! Meg? Meg Austin?" He stared at her in astonishment for long seconds, before his stunned expression turned to a smile of pure delight. "Of all the offices in all the towns in all the world, I have to walk into yours!"

Meg walked around her desk and opening her arms walked into his hug, saying as she did so, "That was probably the worst Bogart impression I've ever heard! But it's Meg McLellan now! Harm, sit down, sit down. What on God's earth are you doing here? I did hear tell that you were married to Colonel MacKenzie, but I thought you were in DC!"

"I was, Meg, I was, until last night. I don't suppose you've heard yet, but there's about half a dozen recently retired JAGs been recalled to help make up the casualties at Falls Church, and I'm one of them."

"But you're not assigned here are you? I mean with Sarah MacKenzie...?"

"No, Meg, I'm not." And with a sigh of resignation, and for the third time that day he explained his assignment to COMNAVAIRPAC. "So, from Monday, we'll be neighbours," he finished his explanation, nodding across in the general direction of North Island.

"Then what brings you here today?" Meg asked, with a faint frown.

He blushed slightly, "Ah, well, I presumed on an old acquaintance, and I asked Jenif...er Legalman Coates to ask the General's Yeoman to e-mail a copy of my orders, otherwise I'm going to have a difficult job of getting on to the base on Monday! You don't mind, do you? It's just that Coates and I are old friends from back in Virginia, and she has the knack of getting things done quickly and smoothly." He saw the sceptical lift of an eyebrow and asked in some surprise, "Are you having trouble with Coates, Meg? I know she can seem a bit insubordinate at times..."

"No... it's not her attitude, Harm, it's her performance. She seemed good last week, but... her performance has dropped the last couple of days...and her general air... she seems to think she can appear and disappear at will. She secured early without permission yesterday, and today I had to remind her that her social activities need to take second place to her duties! She took far too long to complete a couple of simple reports, and when I asked her she why she just said she was having a bad day, but from the looks of her, she was out partying late last night!"

"Meg, I'm afraid that last complaint is my fault, I woke her up at half-past two to come and pick me up from the airport, so it wasn't partying."

"Well why wouldn't she tell me that?"

"Jennifer Coates, Meg, is a stubborn, wilful and very proud young woman, who won't make excuses for herself. Her service record since she changed rating is second to none, and apart from outstanding fitreps and performance evals, she is one of the most loyal members of any crew I have ever seen. One day, when we've a few hours to spare I'll tell you her story, but Jennifer Coates has earned, has more than earned, the privilege of taking a little slack now and then. Meg, I can't tell you how to run your team, but give her a chance. I understand from Mac that she's been a life saver for us again and again over these last weeks while I've been tied up in DC, but now I'm back, I'll pick up the load she's been toting, and I'm damn' sure you'll find she's just about the best Yeoman you'll ever find!"

Meg looked at him searchingly, "You sure do think a lot of her, don't you Harm?"

"Meg, if Coates had ever made it to college, I'm pretty sure she'd be wearing Lieutenant's bars right now, if not Lieutenant Commander's. Meg, she is that good." Harm urged his old partner, "If I didn't think Mac would kill me for it, I would have orders cut for her to PCS to my office on Monday."

Satisfied that Harm was telling the truth as he saw it, Meg nodded, "Alright Harm, I'll give her a second chance."

He smiled at her, his old flyboy smile. The smile that knocked ten years off his age, and made her catch her breath and go weak at the knees. Just as it had when they were partnered together.

They were disturbed by a knock at the door, and Meg raising her head called out "Enter!"

"Your pardon ma'am, sir," Jen said standing at attention with a manila folder under her left arm, "I have a copy of his orders for the Captain."

"Thank you, Legalman," Harm said, rising to his feet, "Commander, once I'm settled, next week, we'll have to get together and catch up on past times." He paused, "Is your husband assigned locally?"

"No, sir, he's visiting for a few days, on TAD from the British Embassy Military Attaché's office in DC."

"Good, why don't you both come to dinner on, say, Tuesday, nineteen-thirty for twenty-hundred hours? Check your schedules, and let Coates here know, she'll pass the word, OK?"

"Yes, sir, I'll do that!"

Meg and Jen stood and watched as he flipped a casual half-salute and made his way across the bull-pen, "Legalman, I've just had an interesting chat with the Captain," Meg said, "He seems to think very highly of you."

"If you say so, ma'am." Meg looked at her sharply, the Yeoman's tone had been oddly flat and there was a strange, troubled expression on her face.

Leaving the Naval Station behind him, Harm drove north to Hillcrest, and having parked, walked into the main reception lobby and asked to be directed to Dr Cameron's offices. Conducted there by a young candy-striper, he was ushered straight in by Tony's own receptionist. Greetings concluded, Tony attached Mattie's MRI scans to the light box and took Harm through the same information that he had told Trish, Mac and Mattie.

Told of the possible risks, Harm considered the options carefully. Without the surgery Mattie's chances of ever realising her ambitions were none-existent. However, and no matter how Tony Cameron wrapped it up, spinal surgery was risky. In the end, reassured by Tony's air of competence and keenly aware of Mattie's feelings on the question, Harm blew out his cheeks and asked, "Where do I sign?"

"Mr Rabb..."

"Harm."

"Harm, now you've signed these, I can get the Chief Surgeon to talk to the Navy Medical Centre and have them grant me privileges again." He smiled, "They owe me for a procedure I did for them last year, so I don't anticipate any problems or delays from that quarter."

Harm grinned, self-consciously, "I've been recalled to Active Duty, so if it's any help, you can tell them that the patient is Navy Captain Rabb's daughter, as well as Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie-Rabb's."

Tony grinned, "I might just do that! Do I take it that congratulations are in order, Captain?"

"Well," the wry grin flashed out, "that remains to be seen!"

Back in the Lexus, Harm picked up his cell 'phone. "Mac, it's me. I'm running a bit late, can you put together a go-bag for me too please? I'll be back to pick you up within the hour. OK, Thanks."

"Hi, Pioneer Aviation? Good morning, this is Harmon Rabb. I'd like my Stearman fuelled and prepped for midday, please, and can you file a flight plan for me: Montgomery to Lone Pine to South Lake Tahoe. And warn Lone Pine that I'll need to refuel to complete the second leg. Fine, thanks very much!"

"Good morning, Lake Tahoe resort? Good. Yeah, I'd like to make a reservation for tonight and tomorrow night in the name of Rabb. Mr and Mrs Rabb, yeah, that's Romeo Alpha Bravo Bravo. Thanks, and can you arrange for a rental to meet us at South lake Airport, ETA about sixteen-hundred hours. No, no flight number, a private plane, a Stearman NS. Great, thank you."

Heading cross town back towards Lemon Grove, Harm suddenly felt a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He had made two major decisions today, and although he would have to live with the consequences, good or evil, of those decisions at least the doubts had now been put to rest.

Mac had their bags ready and was dressed or travel in slacks and shirt, and on being told she'd need her flying leathers; she merely raised an eyebrow as she brought both his and her suits out from the hall closet, while Harm hastily said hi, and made his excuses to Trish, "Mom, I hate to do this, but..." and he cast a worried glance over his shoulder towards Mac, "we've got a marriage to try and save!"

Trish smiled brightly, although her heart was aching for her son's unhappiness. At least, she thought, he'd said 'we have' and not 'I have'. Well, it spoke to a positive attitude, at all events.

Settled in the Lexus Mac asked him, "Where are we going?"

"I'm not saying, it's a surprise!"

She laughed, all at once feeling the years drop away. "We haven't been flying together for years," she laughed, "Not since before that case at Gitmo!"

"Yeah," Harm grinned enjoying her pleasure. He hadn't seen Mac this carefree since before he'd had to leave for DC for the Federal case, and he hoped that her cheerfulness was a good omen for what he guessed was going to be in part, a pretty stormy discussion.

She grinned and said, "Damn! I don't know why, but all of a sudden I feel like I'm a schoolgirl, playing hookey to run off for the weekend with my boyfriend!"

Harm's grin widened, when she was in this sort mood, she was almost the same Marine Corps Major with whom he had fallen in love back in '96.

The drive up to Montgomery Field took a bare twenty minutes, and while Harm was finalising the flight plan and carrying out his pre-flight walk round, Mac climbed into her leathers and checking to make sure of the lunchtime break, took the opportunity to call Mattie.

"Hey, Mattie, it's Mac... Yeah, we're good... yeah, honestly. Listen, honey, Harm and I are taking your advice... We're getting a room. We'll be gone for two nights, Trish is going to pick you up from school today and ferry you around as you need, OK...? Now you be good... and we'll see you in a couple of days... Yes, I'll tell him, and remember Mattie, we love you too..."

Jen took her lunch break in the office break room. She had opened the present Harm had left her, and had felt the tears prickling her eyes. It wasn't a fabulous gift, just a one pound box of chocolate truffles, but they were from Bagio's Chocolatierie in DC. It was so like Harm to remember the name of her favourite chocolates and to have taken the time and trouble to find them when he'd had so much more on his mind. And then to bring them clear across the country was more than ample payment she thought for a half hour ride from the airport to Lemon Grove.


	22. 20 October 2007 pm

**Saturday 20 October 2007, Part 2**

At just about the same time as the Stearman's wheels were lifting off the tarmac at Montgomery Field, Mattie was making an illicit 'phone call. It wasn't so much that she wanted to disobey Mac, but she had to tell Stacey what was about to happen. After all it would affect both their futures.

"Hi Stacey, it's me, Mattie… Stacey, I've got some wonderful news! No… Harm hasn't said yes… because I haven't asked him yet. Because he only got home late last night, and now he and Mac have gone away for a couple of days… Yeah, my news, it's great! There's this doctor I was telling you about… yeah, him… Well, I got my scan yesterday and he thinks he can fix my back… Yeah, great isn't it? Now I'll be able to go to the academy like I always… Stacy! Be happy for me! Of course I love you… Yeah, I know, but would it be so bad if we did have to wait… Yeah, I know four years is a long time, but Annapolis is in Maryland, right next door to Virginia, you've got your house there, and we could be together at weekends… Oh, no, I can't, not right now… Yeah they are away, but Harm's mom is kinda looking after me… 'Cause I can't drive, remember…? And that's another reason to get my legs fixed, once they're done I'll be able to drive, and I won't need anyone to haul me around. Besides, once my legs work, I'll be able to… well, you know… No! I can't say it… 'cause it'll make me blush, that's why! Look, why don't I get Trish… I told you! Trish is Harm's mom… well, anyway, I'll get her to take me over to Linda Graham's after school, and you just sorta stop by to say 'hi' to Robert… yeah, we can talk about it properly then… OK, Stacy… about four o'clock… 'bye, I love you."

Mattie felt vaguely dissatisfied as she thumbed the 'End Call' button. Stacy hadn't seemed particularly enthusiastic over her news, but he must know how much it would mean to her, getting back the use of her legs. He could have been happier for me, she thought moodily, but still, she brightened up, she'd get to see him this afternoon!

Stacy Caldwell folded his cell 'phone shut before Mattie had finished speaking. The stupid little bitch was going to screw everything up! He couldn't wait four years to get his hands on her property! Hell, he couldn't even wait four goddam weeks! No damn' good her being able to run around either, too much chance she'd hear something he didn't want her to. So, with her damn step-parents or foster parents or whatever the hell they were out of town, there'd never be a better time to whip her off to Vegas, and she hadn't mentioned that interfering bitch Coates either, so maybe she was out of town too, or better yet, out of the picture entirely! He still had enough of his winnings to pay for flights to Vegas and a quick ceremony. OK, Vegas might be a risk, but he had got friends there, and it wouldn't cost more than a C-note to get her a fake ID, and then once the knot was tied he could give the finger to the rest of the world!

The wheels of Miles Caldwell's Learjet 85 smacked the Las Vegas runway with a puff of smoke from friction heated rubber as Mike Russell, Miles' pilot eased further back on the throttles and booted the rudder pedal to swing the aircraft in behind the taxi-marshal's "Follow Me" signed truck. Miles grinned at him. "Bit of a heavy touchdown there Mike."

"Yeah, boss. Hot 'n' high, hot 'n' high. Had to fly her right into the tarmac!" Mike wasn't disturbed at his employer's comment. Miles had enough flight time logged to understand the extra efforts needed to overcome the peculiar problems of high temperature and high ambient air pressure. Of course, the boss didn't have anywhere near a fraction of the seven thousand plus hours as his ex-navy C-2 and A-6E pilot, and he'd never had to try a carrier deck landing, but still, the boss was a pretty fair jack-leg pilot and he could, if he'd wanted to, flown this trip himself, but he knew how much Mike would have fretted over the safety of his ride.

The car and driver Miles had asked the hotel to provide was waiting for him beside the private aircraft parking bays, so with a few final instructions to Mike regarding re-fuelling and the paying of that bill, landing and hangar fees. Miles turned to the car driver and directed him to be taken to the hotel.

As a regular guest at the hotel, with the same suite usually made available to him Miles was a known and, as a good tipper, a welcome sight to the hotel staff at the Mandalay. He was met at the reception desk by the head concierge, who signalled for a bell-hop to relieve Miles of the small valise that contained all he needed for his stay, and assured him that there was no need to Mr Caldwell to sign in, it was already taken care of, and that if he needed anything then all he would have to do was ask.

Miles grinned, and said, "Yeah, I need an up-to-date 'phone number for Cherry Bakewell!"

The concierge looked at him in some confusion, "Cherry Bakewell, Mr Caldwell, that's a pie isn't it?"

"Nope, she's a tart. She used to be about the best in town, oh a few years ago now. She used to live out at Canyon Crest. When you get her number patch it through to me in my suite. Thank you."

Reaching the privacy of his room, Miles pulled a second, rarely used, cell 'phone from his inside jacket pocket and called a familiar number. "Watson, this is Caldwell… Yes, I thought he might. Has Greening caught on yet? No, OK… how much…? That much, not bad for a few hours work, if you like that sort of thing! Where is he now? Del Coronado… OK, use the name Bakewell and book a suite, the Presidential would be best, but failing that any of the Senatorials would do. From tomorrow night for a week, initially. I'll let you know if anything else is needed. Yes, send the bills to the usual address. Good. Goodbye."

Miles Caldwell gave himself a little shake. Watson was damn' good at his job, otherwise he wouldn't be able to charge so much and Caldwell wouldn't use him, but even after just talking to him on the 'phone Miles felt in need of a shower.

Freshly showered and with a fresh pot of coffee and a couple of Danish pastries delivered with the compliments of the management, Miles sat down in one of the suite's armchairs and prepared to enjoy what he jokingly referred to as his one vice. Reaching into his valise he brought out a battered and dog-eared paperback book, Louis L'Amour's _The Lonely Men_, and settled down to lose himself for an hour or so in the western frontier of the 1870s.

Concentrating on the task in hand, Harm eased the Stearman down on to the runway at South Lake Tahoe airport and rolling to a near stop, he swung the bi-plane on to the taxi-way and by blipping the engine he weaved his way, listening to the control tower's instructions, towards the row of light airplanes that flanked the hangar apron.

A baton wilding figure in bright yellow overalls, a sort of civilian 'paddles', Harm smiled to himself, raised his arms in a 'watch me' instruction, and directed the Stearman to a position at the end of the row of privately owned aircraft, and when satisfied that the Stearman was correctly aligned gave the cut-out signal and waited until the engine note had died and the airscrew had come to rest, before giving Harm the thumbs-up, and walking back towards the hangar.

Harm climbed out of the cockpit and waited to give Mac a hand down off the wing, catching her gently by the waist as she slid to the ground. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold air of the flight, and her eyes were sparkling with the joy of the flight. As she pulled off her leather helmet to reveal her disordered and tousled hair, Harm thought she looked ten years younger than this morning's virago and had rarely looked lovelier. Unable to resist, he pulled her in close to him and kissed her, gently at first, and then as she responded with more passion, until remembering where they were and conscious of the bulk of the flying suits that prevented closer physical contact, she brought her hands up and pressed them against his shoulders. As they broke contact, Harm looked at his wife, her eyes were both dark and shining and her lips slightly swollen and slighting parted, and glistening as she ran the tip of her tongue over them, as if trying to absorb the slightest reminder of the taste of his mouth on hers, and even through the thickness of the leather jacket her breasts' movements betrayed her arousal as she fought to bring her breathing under control.

Mac, only too well aware of her own physical response to Harm, saw that his eyes had darkened with lust and noted that he too was breathing deeply, and she knew as she had pressed against him, although frustrated by the thickness of the intervening layers of leather and cloth, that buried under all those layers that his body had responded to hers. She was sure, in that instant, that with such a bond between them and the way their bodies had reacted to a brief kiss that they could if they both wanted, overcome their stupid fights. And right now, she wanted; oh, she most definitely wanted to do just that.

As her breathing evened out, and as she patted her hair back into some semblance of order a thought struck her and at first she grinned, then unable to help herself she broke into a most un-marine-like and un-officer-like giggle. Harm paused in the action of retrieving their bags from the stowage compartment and looking at her suspiciously demanded, "What?"

She wiped away the tears that her laughter had brought to her eyes and said, "I was just thinking… what Mattie would have said, if she'd seen us just now!"

He looked blank for a second and then his own smile dawned as he said, "Yeah… 'Ewww - get a room, puhleeease'!"

Allowing for the difference in the depth of voices, Harm's mimicry of Mattie's vocal and facial expressions was so accurate, that Mac could do nothing but wail with helpless laughter as she sagged back against the Stearman's fuselage, and her own laughter was sufficient to provoke a sympathetic chuckle from Harm. If he were to tell the truth though, and although at least half his smile was in empathy with Mac's humour, half of it was brought about by the recognition that her physical tenseness which had been so obvious this morning had dissolved into relaxation, and the hope that this relaxed condition would prevail through the evening and day that lay ahead of them.

Slinging their bags over his shoulder, he extended his free arm towards her and she leaned in against his side, and so with his arm around her waist and his hand resting lightly on her hip the two of them walked in step towards the hangar, their waiting rental car and whatever the evening might bring.

Jen finished her lunch-time coffee and sandwich and left the break-room headed back towards her desk, nodding her acknowledgement of the presence of Seaman Campbell, the young YNA who had the lunchtime duty of 'phone watch. Jen had missed out on those duties, her own younger days had been as an ETA and then ET3, standing the shipboard watches about which she had earlier reminisced, but she reflected as she passed the younger woman, that she was grateful that her own rate absolved her from the from such niggling but necessary duties.

They weren't however, she discovered a few seconds later alone in the office, there were two distinctly different voices to be overheard coming through the partly open door of Lieutenant Walker's office, and despite the quietness of the conversation which precluded any knowledge of the topic of conversation, they were both easily identifiable, the one voice was a female West Texas drawl while the other male voice had the slightest hint of a Virginia accent and, Jen smiled, definitely belonged to Lieutenant Tiner. Jen mentally shrugged. Good luck to them both she thought. In some ways the fraternisation regulations were ridiculous; she had read somewhere, that something like eighty per cent of romantic relationships were started at work. It made sense to her. A person chose his or her partner from those most available to them, and the people in the most sustained contact were the people among whom you spent a third of you time, the people with whom you worked. Wasn't it a cliché that doctors married nurses and chefs married waitresses?

But where she wondered in that equation did that leave Petty Officers in the United States Navy? Rigorously suppressing that train of thought, Jen contented herself with silently wishing success for Lieutenants Tiner and Walker, and returning to her desk re-activated her computer screen and re-opened her word-processing programme.

She was still busily typing, when the 'Incoming E-Mail' icon started flickering on and off, so saving the work she had completed so far, she navigated to the e-mail system and opened the two messages, both from Alison Brewer at JAG HQ. Opening them she found them to be copies of assignment orders. One for a Commander Robert E Leighton USN, due to report on the following Friday from COMNAVAIRPAC, obviously the JAG being replaced by Harm… er… Captain Rabb. The other set of orders was for a Major Thomas M Saunders USMC, from the _USS Reprisal, _who was to report on Monday. Both officers were attorneys, she noted; good, that might relieve some of Mac's stress, and Jen was convinced that the stress of trying to run a badly under-manned team was contributing to the difficulties Mac was experiencing. Now with two more senior attorneys coming on board plus Commander McLellan as XO and 2IC, Mac might be more inclined to relax and look after herself. However that turned out, and Jen hoped that all would turn out well, happy and safe, she needed to get these orders printed out and on Commander McLellan's desk ASAP, and to access the OMPF system for copies of the two officers' Officer's Data Cards to be added to temporary jackets until the permanent records arrived from their last assignments - if they ever did she cynically and silently commented.

Orders printed and copies of service records downloaded, Jen turned her attention back to her word processing package, just as Commanders McLellan and Coleman returned from lunch. As they entered her office space, Jen stood to attention and said, "Commander McLellan, ma'am?"

"Yes, Legalman?"

"Ma'am, re-assignment orders for two officers just received, together with copies of their ODCs."

"Thank you, Legalman, anything else happen over lunch, that I need to know about?"

"No, ma'am."

Meg McLellan took the two Jackets from Jen's hand and turning to Commander Coleman, she said, "Well, let's get on with it. Oh, Coates?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I'm not available for the next ten minutes, unless WW3 starts - or my husband calls!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Jen grinned as the office door closed behind the two Commanders. I wonder, she asked herself did the Commander realise that she had just, no matter how unconsciously, compared her marriage to a war, and just how would Colonel McLellan react to that comparison.

Meg McLellan was at that moment trying not to react to faith Coleman's making a ritual of the simple act of sitting down. It was an awful reflection upon herself, she acknowledged, but the other officer's actions were beginning to exert a horrified fascination.

"Will you excuse me just a moment, please, Faith, while I have a very quick look at these jackets? Thank you."

H'mm, Leighton… oh, yes, Bobby Leighton, she'd met him a couple of times a few years ago when they had both been newly promoted Lieutenant Commanders, he had married that Lieutenant jg, from Falls Church, Nestor; she turned to his Page 2 entries, yes, there it was Spouse: Susan Nestor, USNR. Well, she didn't know much if anything about his performance, but, and although she didn't like using the backdoor approach, Yeomen were often a good source of personal and personnel intel, Coates or Staff Sergeant Brewer might be able to help, or…

"Faith, do you know Bobby Leighton? Commander Leighton, that is."

"I've met him ma'am, he's over at COMNAVAIRPAC, as the Commander's Legal Advisor."

"What do you know about him as a litigator?"

"Nothing much, he's spent some time in court, but mostly I think he's been in staff billets."

"Uh-huh, how about Major Thomas Saunders?"

"No, I don't think I recognise the name."

Meg looked at her senior, for the moment, attorney. If Faith Coleman, with her grasp of minutiae and her eidetic memory, said she hadn't heard of a fellow JAG, even if he was a marine, then he must have flown under almost everybody's radar. He was another one for whom she have to resort to underground channels if she was to get a sense of the lawyer in the officer.

She was still no better off, and now she was coming under increasing pressure from the Commanding General at Miramar to bring Trygvassen to trial, and Faith Coleman still hadn't brought an end to the Starr case.

"What's happening with Lieutenant Starr?"

"Defence has brought in a new witness, a Commander Coulter, she's..."

"Yes, I know her. She's a forensic pathologist, but I thought you said that Starr's husband was still alive…"

"Yes, he is…"

"OK, now I am officially confused…"

"Yes, but she's made a couple of points for the defence that have the panel re-thinking. I'm pretty sure now that unless I can pull something big out of the hat, that she's going to walk."

"Would that be a bad thing?"

"I don't know…" Faith Coleman was obviously uncomfortable with her uncertainty, "I was convinced she was guilty, but…"

"But?"

"Commander Coulter has made me think that there's reasonable doubt. She's testified that the weapon and the ammunition used would have sufficient power to cause the victim to spin when he was hit in the shoulder, and that would be enough to make him turn his back to the shooter, and if she was shooting as rapidly as she claims, then rather than choosing to continue shooting, she wouldn't have had time to _stop _shooting when he turned as he did."

"So…?"

"I have reasonable doubts, and I think the panel does too, particularly when the so-called victim has a record of brutality towards the accused; perhaps we ought to drop the case."

"Well, you're the prosecutor, Faith. It's your decision, but let me know before you decide either way, please."

"Will do. Is there anything else?"

"Not at the moment, I'm still trying to find another litigator to work on that damn Trygvassen case with you." Meg smiled weakly, "If I ever do find one, I'll get back to you!"

Mattie had persuaded Trish to let her go with Linda Graham, in her new car, to the house on Long Branch Avenue where, in line with her earlier suggestion, she found Stacy Caldwell pretending to play checkers with Robert Graham. The entry of the two girls was sufficient excuse for Stacy to call an end to a game he considered to be one of the biggest wastes of time known to man, but one to which Robert was almost addicted. Leaving Linda to entertain her brother, he, discreetly he thought, drew Mattie of to one side, under the pretence of admiring Linda's car through the living room window. He had not been quite as discreet as he had wished, and the sight of Stacy and Mattie together causes Robert to frown. He might have spent the last two years hidden in the depths of South America, but he remembered Stacy's type all too well from his days at college, and was disgusted by Stacy's pursuit of a girl so much younger than himself.

He was uneasily aware that Mattie thought she was in love with Caldwell. Linda worshipped her elder brother and had never kept any secrets from him and he had been, unwillingly, brought up to date with the progress of the romance.

Uneasy at what he had been told, he said to his sister, "You shouldn't go round telling people about your best friend's business, Linda."

"Oh, I don't, well except to you and mom."

"Well, OK, I guess you can tell mom, but you shouldn't tell me; I only listened because mom had told me that she knew Mattie's folks - and her friend Jen - didn't like Stacy hanging around her, and because I guess you sympathise with her."

"Yeah, I do. Poor Mattie, did you know she did track and field and softball before her crash? There's not a single guy at school has ever asked her out on a date, and that she didn't even go to the Junior Prom, because no-one would ask her. Now that a guy is interested in her, no-one will just let them be, just because he's a little older than they like!"

"It's not just that," he objected

"You're going to be like the rest, aren't you?" she challenged him, "Just because he was a player at one time. It doesn't mean that he can't change. And he has! I mean look at him. He comes here to play checkers with you - did you ever hear of a so-called player doing that?"

"No, Lin, it's not that. I don't really know anything about what he used to be, it's just…" He hesitated and then as she looked inquiringly at him, he continued, "He is so much older than she is, by at least twelve, maybe more years, and probably a lot more in terms of experience."

"Yeah, but Mattie's so much more mature than the other girls in our year. Her accident made her grow up real quick, so it's not just 'cause she's so pretty. He must have met hundreds of pretty girls before, but he said he'd never fallen in love before!"

"Lin," he sighed, "Maybe he is in love with her, and maybe she is really in love with him. But just think, why hasn't she taken him home to meet her folks? Why hasn't he just gone to visit with them or at least introduce himself? A decent guy wouldn't ask an under-age girl to marry him without getting her folks say-so."

"Robbie, you're beginning to sound, just like Jen, or… or mom. I suppose you reckon that Mattie should sit still and wait for family to choose her boyfriends for her!"

"No, I won't say anything like that, sis, but I will say that if Stacy Caldwell was acting like that towards you, I'd punch his lights out!"

Linda was startled and a little impressed too, "Wow! Really?"

"Well," he laughed, "I'd try - it's what anyone would do!"

Linda still did not look convinced. He put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze, "I shan't interfere, it's not really any of my never-mind. But you'd be a better friend to Mattie if you tried to talk her out of doing anything stupid with that Stacy."

He decided to leave it at that. He wasn't sure of how much he'd said would be passed on to Mattie and because he didn't want his sister to suspect that he was taking a more than casual interest in the subject. He had never tried to talk to Mattie about Stacy, and although he was concerned that she was headed towards throwing away her future on him, it was not his place to poke his nose into her business. If he'd had the slightest connection to Mattie he would have done exactly what he had told Linda, he would have laid Stacy Caldwell flat. He wasn't yet fully fit, but he had no doubt of his ability to do just that; even with modern, enlightened views of management techniques, a two year stint with an oil exploration and drilling team had from time to time called for more robust methods.

And that, he thought miserably, had been just another example of he'd let down his uncle, instead of running his own team, or even being the foreman of a team, he was stuck at home, a drain on his mother and so indirectly on his uncle.

Robert's arrival in San Diego had been marked by a slump in his morale, Robert's spirits as much as his body had been worn down by his fever. Uncle Henry had been very kind, but Robert could see only as far into his future as being some sort of clerk in his uncle's business - data entry if he was even that lucky! Sure, Uncle Henry had said that he was very happy with the reports he had gotten on Robert's achievements in South America, but that was just the sort of thing that family would say. But as his health had improved his depression had lifted and thinking about it now, he began to hope that he might be able to work his way back to a position of responsibility and to a position where he might be able to afford a place of his own, and even perhaps a family of his with whom to share it. Of course to have a family, he'd have to have a wife… Unconsciously his eyes focused on Mattie where she stood in conversation with that damn' Caldwell. He was being ridiculous of course, he told himself, almost as ridiculous as Mattie was being. Her attitude and her body language put him forcibly in mind of a tiresome fourteen year-old Linda who had developed a several weeks-long crush on her English Lit teacher, until he gave her a 'F' on one of her assignments. Neither he nor his mother had set any great store by her passion, and Robert wouldn't have paid any more attention to Mattie's infatuation if Stacy Caldwell had been a regular kind of guy. But Linda had let something slip, and had then tried to brush it off as a figment of her imagination, but he had received the incredible suspicion that Mattie and Caldwell were considering a weekend flight to Vegas and a visit to one of its many marriage chapels.

Mentioning his concern to his mother he had been dismayed to find that she shared the same suspicion, and had only been dissuaded from attempting to contact Mattie's folks by his mother telling him that she had already warned Jennifer Coates to be on the alert.

Jen Coates was no fool, but Robert felt that she needed a man's help to sort this, was tied down in Washington and likely to be so for some time it seemed. But Miles Caldwell had shown no sign of interfering or even of taking any interest in his nephew's activities. Robert could hardly say he was surprised at Miles' attitude. He had come to know the older man fairly well and to realise that he never took any interest in people he didn't like. It was useless to think that Miles could like someone who behaved as Stacy did, and it was even less likely that he would act out of regard for his family name. On the other hand there could be no doubt that he did like Jennifer Coates very much. There was no way that Robert could discuss Stacy with Stacy's uncle, he could only hope that Miles' liking for Jennifer would lead him to helping Jennifer's friend out of an extremely unhealthy relationship. Miles Caldwell was a strange man, he was cold but he was also kind, and so very difficult to understand. But there was one thing his friends could count on, there were no limits to the help he would, in his careless manner, give them.

It was also possible, he thought gloomily, that Jennifer would feel awkward about broaching the subject of Stacy and Mattie to Miles, but he thought that a nudge from his mother, if hinted at by himself, might help her overcome any hesitation she might have and prompt her to ask Miles for his help.

Miles Caldwell had been disturbed from his reading by a phone call that he had hoped would be from his old acquaintance, Ms Bakewell. He picked up the phone and said, "Caldwell."

"Caldwell? _Miles _Caldwell?"

"Yes."

"Good God, when they told me who was asking, I couldn't believe my ears! Miles Caldwell!"

The male voice obviously wasn't Cherry Bakewell, but it _was_ one of their mutual acquaintances.

"Ted Naseby! Good God indeed! How are you, you old SOB? And how the hell did you get word I was here? And where are you?"

"Calm down, old son! Calm down! I'm here in Vegas at Caesar's Palace, gave Hetty the slip for the week! So, I'm good, thank you! I heard word on the street that someone was looking for Cherry - she doesn't call herself that anymore, by the way - and I backtracked the source of the inquiry to you. I'd nearly forgotten that the two of you used to be…er… friendly!"

"So what's she calling herself these days?" The grin on Miles' face was very evident in his voice.

"Oh, she's Annie Chamberlain now. You'd never recognise her! She's set up her own house up on Tucson Ridge, drives around in a top of the range Mercedes with one or two of her nieces and looks like a queen! Behaves like one too! All very high class, no 32nd street left overs for her!"

"Became a madam did she? She always was one to keep an eye out for the main chance. Where exactly is this fancy house of hers?"

Armed with the information, Miles called for a car and a driver and had himself driven out to Tucson Ridge, where after a quiet conversation on the entry intercom system, the electrically operated gates rolled back and he was able to be driven up to the house. The door was opened by a very attractive and conservatively dressed young woman who introduced herself ass Ms Chamberlain's PA and conducted him to a study-cum-living room where he was left to await the arrival of his hostess. He was not kept waiting very long before the lady on whom he had come to call entered the room, and pausing with her hand on the doorknob said, "Dammit! It is you! I could hardly believe when security called to say you were here!"

Miles laughed and took three long steps towards her before he caught her in a tight hug and kissed her soundly on the cheek.

She returned his hug but protested, "That's enough of that! Put me down, I'm a respectable woman now!"

Miles gave her a cynically amused look and let out a shout of laughter.

"Oh… you know what I mean!" she retorted half-way between anger and amusement.

"Yes, I do, I do… who coughed up for this little lot. Cherry?"

"A right mark he was," she chuckled, "you wouldn't have known him. You were long gone by the time he and I hooked up, but he was pretty well heeled and bled like a stuck shoat. "What I mean," she corrected herself primly, "is that he was quite wealthy and very generous!"

"No, was he?" Miles remarked totally unimpressed by her façade of gentility. "Come off it Cherry, do you remember the night a party of us went out to the Horseshoe and you broke a bottle of bourbon over the head of that harpy that was trying to gouge my eyes out?"

"No, I don't!" she responded sharply, and if you hadn't gotten into it with that bouncer and a couple of bartenders I wouldn't have had to demean myself by doing anything of the sort! Which I didn't!"

"No, I must have been thinking of someone else... What was the name of that bottle-blonde piece Tom Plummer brought with him?"

"That cheap tramp!" she exclaimed in a voice dripping with contempt, "She didn't have the bal… er… the guts to hit a cockroach with a shoe! No, stop your games, Miles! I won't say I'm not glad to see you, you're like a breath of fresh air, but that's the problem. You make me forget who I am now! And I guess you didn't come here to talk over old times. And, Mr Caldwell, if you've come here for a bit of company, I'll tell you that I don't have any ten-dollar tramps in this establishment, but only well-educated young ladies of refinement!"

"Oh, very nicely done, Cherry!" he approved, "did it take you long to learn to talk like that?"

"Come on," she commanded, ignoring his last comment, "out with it, what _do_ you want?"

"Just what you said," he replied, "An educated young lady of refinement!"

Harm drove away from the resort reception building and following Mac's map-reading instructions took one of the unmetalled tracks that led downhill to the log built lakeside cabin he had reserved. Shouldering their go-bags, he and Mac stepped up on to the full length porch, and unlocking the door he stood back to allow Mac to be the first to enter. As she did so she reflected on how much she had changed from the day he had first met her. She was still a marine; as she had been then, but now whether because she was more confident about herself and her capabilities, she was more than content to allow Harm those little courtesies she had at one time thought undermined her strength as a woman.

She had been so defensive in those days, determined to show that she didn't need a man to carry heavy loads, could open her own doors, and didn't need her seat rammed forward under her six when she sat down. She had resented Harm for showing these signs of attention, and their conflicting attitudes had been the source of a fair amount of friction during their early days as partners, and had mitigated their wakening interest in each other as people. It wasn't until she had accepted that he wasn't been condescending or demonstrating his superior male strength that she had been able to understand that Harm, growing up without a male role model, without his father, was a product of the social education given to him by his mother and his grandmother. He had been raised as a gentleman, by women of an older generation than her own, and those little acts which she had so resented, were as much a part of him as his blue eyes or his easy, confident grin - she had at one stage even dismissed his smile as being a part of his arrogant pilot's persona. And that she reminded herself was only one example of just how wrong she could be when it came to dealing with the man she loved.

Harm watched her as she passed through the doorway into the main living room of the cabin, even approaching her fortieth year Sarah MacKenzie was a beautiful woman, her maturity, a product not only of age and experience, but also resulting from her professional life had replaced her former Marine Corps arrogance with justifiable confidence in her ability as an officer not just to command, but to lead, and as a woman holding her own in a competitive work world and in running a household. Sure, they were running through a rough patch at the moment, but they, she particularly, had a lot to deal with, and he hoped that this two-day retreat would help them reach a better understanding and would help to heal their damaged relationship.

Mac walked through into the bedroom and only too conscious of the sweat and dust that had become trapped between her body and her clothes called out, "Harm, I'm going to take a shower, did you want to jump in first?"

Harm had no doubt that her offer was prompted by the knowledge that he was likely to spend a far shorter time in the bathroom than her, but that she hoped that he would decline the invitation, smiled. "No, you go ahead, Mac. I'm going to head down to the store and get some supplies in, and then I'm going to start the fire. I'll shower then, and after that we'll get some dinner going!"

She made no reply, but it seemed only a matter of seconds before he heard the hiss of the shower and caught the scent of her shower gel. Resisting the temptation of watching her twist and turn under the hot water, he left her to her enjoyment and leaving the cabin headed for the resort store.

Robert Graham even while talking to his sister had kept an unobtrusive eye on Stacy and Mattie, uneasily aware that perhaps he was paying rather too much attention to his young sister's best friend, and feeling rather hypocritical about the whole age difference thing. He had pointed an accusing mental finger at Stacy Caldwell, yet here he was, himself six or seven years older than Mattie, in physical age, and despite Linda's assertion as to her friend's maturity, he had very little doubt that in terms of experience the gap between them was much, much greater than seven years. Yet Mattie fascinated him, she was, under normal circumstances, bright, bubbly, full of energy, witty, intelligent, and yes, she was pretty, but he was certain that he wasn't just judging her on physical appearances, otherwise he wouldn't have known that today she wasn't being her normal self. Ever since she had finished her conversation with Stacy her behaviour had been… odd. One second she was full of brittle laughter and what he was sure were false high spirits, and the next, if she thought no-one was watching, she was sunk deep in thoughts; gloomy thoughts, too if he was any judge. What he would really like to do was to go to her and put his arm round her and soothe all her troubles away and tell her… Tell her what, exactly? That he thought he was in love with her? She'd either run screaming from the house, or would laugh in his face!

No, he had been told by Linda that Mattie thought of him as an older brother. And she had told him with the air of one relaying a huge compliment. He should have felt that it was better than nothing, but whoever had come up with the saying that half a loaf is better than no bread must have been a damn' fool. Well, if a brother she wanted then a brother he'd be for her, maybe at least she would confide in him, and perhaps be more inclined to listen to any advice he might be able to give, although he doubted that anything he could say would be any better advice than Jennifer Coates might tell her.

He stood up and casually approached her as she stood by the window, moodily watching the street. "It's a bit stuffy in here Mattie, why don't I get us a couple of glasses of lemonade - mom's just made some fresh - and we can go and sit out in the fresh air on the porch, and then I can tell you what's making me so sad."

She smiled up at him, he was so funny at times, he didn't look the slightest bit sad, but, she thought, he did look a bit anxious, perhaps his recovery wasn't going quite as well as it should. And talking to him about that would be a relief from worrying about what Stacy had said to her. "Yes," she said, the smile widening slightly, "yes, I think I'd like that."

"You go on ahead, then. I'll get the drinks."

When he joined her a few minutes later on the porch she had taken up half of the swing-seat and with a gesture invited him to sit next to her.

"I was watching the gulls," she remarked inconsequentially, "They're so beautiful when they're flying. There's something about them, they're so white against the sky…"

"Oh stop it, Mattie," he interrupted her.

"What…?"

"Stop just making conversation. You told Linda that you felt like I was your brother. Well trying to keep me entertained isn't exactly doing that, is it, treating me like a brother, I mean."

"No… I s'pose not; but I've never had a brother…" she blushed and looked away from him.

"Is something bugging you?" he asked gently.

"No… no, of course not!"

"Oh, come on, Mattie; don't say that something's not worrying you, because I won't believe you!"

"Oh, it's just that Jen and I had a fight the other day, and now even though she says we're good, I'm not sure… oh, we're getting along OK, I think, but people - grown-ups," she said, giving away just how young she could be, "just don't understand. All they care about is going to college, getting a career… and… and whenever you want to do something, they just say that you're too young and you need to wait, and anyway, you'll soon get over it!"

He smiled sympathetically, "Yeah, and the worst thing is, they generally turn out to be right."

"Not always!"

"Annoyingly often though."

"_When you're as old as I am…"_ Mattie mimicked savagely.

"Do not tell me that Jennifer Coates ever said those words, or anything remotely similar, to you!"

"No, she hasn't, but I thought she'd be on my side, that she'd be able to understand! But she isn't - she's just like Mac! Prejudiced and thinking that it doesn't matter if you're unhappy, as long as you do what's _right_! And," she added with a strong sense of indignation, "she doesn't even like him!"

Robert said nothing for a minute or so, he just sat staring at the houses on the other side of the street, while Mattie fished a Kleenex out of her pocket and blew her nose. Finally, drawing a deep breath and choosing his words carefully he said, "If someone you love - and Jennifer does love you, I'm sure - seems to be on the verge of making a huge mistake, wouldn't you try to prevent it?"

"Yes, but I'm not making a mistake!" Mattie said, "And I am not too young to make my own decisions. I've been making my own decisions since I was fourteen! And I won't let them ruin my life, even if I do have to take extreme steps!"

"Don't! How could you be happy if you did something that would break the hearts of the people who love you the most? Mattie, I reckon I do know what the problem is, and I wish I could help you." He stopped to think for a few moments, and then continued, "Have you met my uncle? He's more than just shrewd and he once told me never rush important decisions; don't do anything that couldn't be undone, unless I was totally certain that I would never want to undo it."

"Of course not!" Mattie said simply. She got up from the swing-seat, "It's getting a bit chilly, now. We should go back inside; I don't want you getting ill again!"

Robert sighed, Mattie obviously didn't want to talk any more, and it was probably his fault he thought for pushing too hard, but she stopped with her hand on the door and said a little nervously, "You don't have to worry about me, Robert. It's just that I get so frustrated at times and I vent too much; it's all the fault of my red hair!"

"No, we're good. But, even though I'm not really your brother, you can tell me if… well, I'll be here for you, no matter what, OK?"

"Yeah, thanks, you're very sweet, but it was only 'cause I was feeling a bit down. Nothing's wrong, really!"

Robert didn't reply, but her words instead of reassuring him only made him more anxious. He wished he knew exactly what was upsetting her, but it was maybe as well he didn't. He had no right to interfere, and probably not the physical strength or stamina to deal with Stacy Caldwell as he needed. Stacy Caldwell, living in fear of the bank foreclosing on his mortgages and in physical fear of his las Vegas creditors was fast losing hope of winning Mattie by gaining her family's consent, and was fast coming to the conclusion that it would have to be a Vegas wedding.

But Mattie, who had woven romantic day-dreams, had suddenly gotten cold feet. Stacy had told her of his plan while they had been standing by the window, and with so many ears to hear she hadn't been able to explain properly why she wasn't comfortable with the idea, but Stacy had accused her of not loving him after all, and had said that if that was the case, then they'd better call it quits between them right then and there.

"Stacy - no!" she had gasped, grabbing his arm.

He had covered her hand with his, holding it firmly, "Your parents are never going to say yes. And your Jennifer won't support us; she's made that absolutely clear. If she has her way, we'll never see each other again; the only way we could, would be to sneak around like we have today, and I hate that, and I'm pretty sure you do too! If you only knew just how much I want to be able to say that it doesn't matter what you all think, we're married now, and we always will be!"

"Oh, Stacy, I want exactly the same thing!"

"So come away with me! We can give the whole world the bird, and then when we're married, we can go to this doctor and get your back fixed. You don't have to be single to get into the academy do you?"

"Uh… no… Well, I'm not sure… I guess not…"

"Well then, if we're not sure, we won't tell them!" he said triumphantly.

Mattie felt a moment of unease. There was lying by omission as well as deliberate telling lies, and as Jen had told her more than once, lying is bad. Besides from what she knew of the academy's honour code, an ordinary lie could get you kicked out, let alone lying on your application!

"I… I… I don't know, Stacy," she said reluctantly.

"Are you scared, I that it?"

"No!"

"Well then let's do it! Didn't you say your family was away for a couple of days? We can fly to Vegas tomorrow, get married and be back here in San Diego before your step mom and dad get back!"

"_Tomorrow_? Oh, no, it's too soon! I wish I could, but there's so much to do"

"It must be soon," he argued, "before they figure out that we've got plans and bust us up!"

It was then that Mattie began to really understand the difference between fantasy and life. She shook her head. "I wish I could," she sighed, "but it's impossible. Please don't be mad at me, but there's my back for one thing; I want to walk, not hobble to my wedding, and it'll only be a little delay."

"There's no such thing as a little delay when it comes to you and me Mattie, every day we're apart feels like a year!"

"Oh, I know. I do know. But face facts: I can't get medical insurance to fix my back, not until my back's fixed, - Catch 22 - and you shouldn't have to pay for it. And if Mac pays or Mac's insurance pays then I just can't damn' well just run out on them the second I'm back on my feet! I couldn't do that to them!"

"Mattie, I understand I do. But you mean so much to me, and I love you so much, that I just want to hold you and protect you from the whole world!"

Had she overheard his words, Jennifer Coates would have told Stacy Caldwell that the only thing in the world that Mattie needed protecting from was himself, but their effect on Mattie was to make her blush and promise, "Stacy, I won't keep you waiting long!"

Exasperation took hold of him, and for an instant it showed in his face, but it was gone so quickly that she doubted the evidence of her own eyes, but he saw her doubt in her own slightly widened eyes. Stacy Caldwell had seldom felt less loving, he was losing patience with her caveats and hesitations, but he answered with well-practiced words of love and respect, afraid that if he gave her time for thought, she would abandon the entire scheme, he had seen how quickly she had rejected the idea of an immediate elopement, so he set himself the task of returning her to her previous mood of acceptance, using all the arguments of persuasion he had learned in a long career of playing the field. He was certain that he could win her round again, but he didn't know Mattie as well as he thought, and he had failed to take into account her obstinate streak, the same obstinate streak that had made her so implacably hostile to her father and the same obstinate streak that had put her back on her feet when the doctors had said that the best she could hope for was a wheelchair.

But despite his attempts at persuasion she refused to entertain the idea of a marriage until she'd had her spinal surgery and he dared not push too hard in case she cried off altogether. He could only repeat that he loved her and silently hope to God that she didn't get these pig-headed moods too often.

Harm finished his shopping trip and returned to the cabin, to find Mac in her favourite cowboy motif blue lounging pyjamas and expressing a decided opinion in favour of lunch or dinner. She seemed finally to have got over her morning sickness, and even her greatest dread of being unwell during the flight - always a possibility even before she had become pregnant - hadn't materialized; now she seemed to have regained her appetite with a vengeance.

Harm grinned at her and brandishing a shrink-wrapped package he said, "Buffalo steak. It's still a slab of dead animal, but not as much fat as dead cow, with baked potato and salad. That do you?"

"Yes, fine, thanks, sailor."

"You're more than welcome, marine."

But despite the casual conversation and the nicknames that long usage had turned into terms of endearment, there still remained an undercurrent of tension between Harm and Mac and that undercurrent remained as Harm built up and lit the fire in the open fire place, prepared the meal and took his own shower. By the time he had finished, the potatoes were almost done and Mac had mixed and tossed the salad. All that remained was for Harm to put Mac's steak and his own vegetable protein cutlet to grill, a ten minute wait before he served the meal. Dinner was accompanied by mineral water and eaten in companionable silence.

After dinner they both sat with mugs of coffee before the fireplace and sat in silence until Mac sighed and said, "Harm, this has been a great day, but we haven't solved anything…"

"I know… I've been trying to figure out where we went wrong. It's less than eighteen months since we tossed that coin in McMurphy's and for a good while, everything was fine, and then all of a sudden we seem to do nothing but fight…"

"That's not quite true," Mac objected, trying to lighten the mood a bit, "we have great sex as well."

"See, Mac, that's part of it, you're deflecting… No," he held his hand up to stop her protest, "I'm just as guilty as you are for doing the same thing. But this time we've got to get past that stage, or we aren't going to solve anything, and then in six months, a year, five years, whatever, we'll be facing each other in a divorce court. And Mac, despite everything, I don't want to divorce you, ever. I love you, and I have loved you since we met in the Rose Garden, God, what is it now? Nearly eleven years ago. And I want to go on loving you for the rest of my life."

Mac stayed silent for a few moments longer, before she replied, "I was never sure when I started loving you. It wasn't in the Rose Garden. In fact you scared me, the way you started at me. Oh, I know now, and I knew right from our early days that you looked at me like because I looked so much like Diane. But I also thought that you were hung up on your other partner…"

"Meg? Yes, I liked Meg, a lot. I met her in your office this morning, you know. I had to use the Yeoman's network, and ask Jennifer to get hold of a confirmation copy of my orders from the General's admin assistant."

"Uh-huh. Any of the old spark left" Mac asked with a trace of jealousy in her voice.

"No, Mac, no spark. There were lots of fond memories and happiness in renewing an old acquaintance, in unexpectedly finding an old friend. That's all there was. You see, Mac, that's something you've never figured out about me, Meg's married now; even if I did feel a spark, I wouldn't have done anything about it. You once asked me why I didn't fight harder for you when you got entangled with Brumby or Webb; for exactly the same reason: you had made a choice, and while I may not have agreed with the choices you made, I respected them."

"Do you still resent those choices, Harm?"

"Brumby? No… not at all. I hated him at the time, and I guess that even without adding you to the mix that he and I could never have been friends, 'Mates' he would have said. But we treated him pretty badly between us. Maybe if I'd been reassigned somewhere you two could have made it work, or even if that bucket of bolts hadn't dumped Skates and me into the Atlantic and I'd made it back for your rehearsal dinner, then maybe you two could have worked it out. But as long as I was there for you to turn to, then I don't think the poor son of a bitch stood a chance. And we were both to blame for that. So, no I don't resent Brumby. Webb? Not now. Straight after Paraguay, yes I did, but again, maybe he didn't do anything wrong, you were the one who hurt me Mac, there was no 'us' you told me. You told me that, three maybe four different times, and that we'd done talking. So maybe I resented you, hell, yes I did resent you. You were pretty mean about me seeking Mattie's guardianship, although you did come through for me in court; and for that we'll both love you forever, because we know that you didn't really want to do it to start with, and we can never forget that it was you that made Tom change his mind about fighting me in court. But Mac, all that is forgiven, if not forgotten. We can't forget it, what happened and the way we have dealt with it has made us what we are today. I'm sorry if I sound so negative, so remember that having gone through all that crap is what made me into the man who loves you with all his heart."

Mac absorbed what he had said and then replied, "You know, what you've said makes me sound like a real, heartless bitch, but I never meant to be, you know. It's just that I could never get you to come right out and make a commitment, and I used to get so frustrated with you that I'd go all out to try and make you jealous, but like you just said, you don't operate that way. So you were too dumb to strike while the iron was hot, and I was too dumb to guess that making you jealous wouldn't work. But the fault wasn't all mine.

When you said in Sydney that you weren't ready to move on, it seemed to me that you had rejected me, and then every time I tried to get close to you, it seemed you backed off. And every time I felt abandoned again, the same pain that I'd felt when I was fifteen when my mom ran off and left me. I know you lost your father; crap, I was on your six practically the whole length and breadth of Russia, but although you'd lost your dad, it wasn't the same thing to me, you hadn't been voluntarily abandoned. And then it seemed to me you pulled the same crap when you said you had to go back to flying. You had abandoned me again for the one thing I was jealous about. I was a marine you were a squid, I was tougher, smarter, a better shot, a stronger swimmer, hell all that USMC oorah! stuff. But you, you were a pilot, that was one thing I couldn't do, and then I used to get sick to my stomach every time you went up in a Tomcat. I'd seen a ramp-strike, remember? I saw that lieutenant die, I saw that fireball rolling across the flight deck, and I felt sick when I realised that she was there somewhere in the middle of it, and then you had to pull Skates back up on deck to stop her falling into the screw, and I just couldn't face the thought of you ending up the same way. So when you went back to flying you not only scared me with the thought of losing you that way, it also felt like you had betrayed me, and that's one of the reasons I was so pissed at you when you came back to JAG with that dumbass flyboy grin, as if nothing had happened and you'd just stepped out to buy a carton of milk.

When mom ran away, I was left with an abusive, domineering father, and all the men I ended up with, before you, were the same. It was the same with Dalton, Chris, Brumby, Webb, John Farrow and that crazy cop and even Tanveer, they all knew what they wanted, and they went all out to get it, and in retrospect they never gave me choice, and in fairness to them, I never made that an issue, because I was used to be controlled, to being told what to do in personal life as well as my military life. And because that was what I was used to, I accepted it, hell I even welcomed it, and I used my body, the one thing I thought I had going for me, to lure those guys in, even though those relationships were psychologically damaging and at least three of them had the potential of being physically dangerous, and I like to think that if any of them had ever laid a finger on me, I'd have killed them, but the truth is, I don't know if I would or if I could.

Sadiq, though; Sadiq was different. He called me a weak whore, and he rejected me on much more fundamental level than you ever did. That's why I killed him, you know. Not because he'd tortured Webb, or because he'd had those two missionaries murdered, or because he was going to blow up a night club, but because he was the one man of whom I had ever really been truly scared, and the one man, except you, that I had tried to seduce and had failed. But you were different Harm, I never, ever felt threatened by you, not emotionally, not psychologically, not physically. Not until this week.

No, don't interrupt, please. When you lost the coin toss, you stuck by our agreement, and you resigned, and I was so afraid that you would resent me for that and that you'd end up hating me for forcing you to make that decision. Oh, I know, it was a mutual decision to call the coin, but I don't know whether I could have stuck to the terms of our agreement. You had just got your eagles, and I was still a half-colonel even though I had about five months more time in grade, and that five months had been comforting, it put me ahead of you in the game, and now, out of nowhere you trumped my ace, and I was angry at you and I was proud of you and I loved you and I hated you all at the same time. If the shoe had been on the other foot and I'd just made Bird-Colonel, I don't know whether I would have had the will to resign, not even for you. If that had happened, even I could have seen that I was running away again, I'm good at that, aren't I? And not knowing if I could stand by our deal, makes me feel so ashamed. And then you were working as a civilian lawyer, and I had the best of both worlds, I was in the marines and you were out of the navy, away from your Goddam Tomcats; I wasn't going to lose you to a ramp-strike or a bird-strike or any other type of freaking strike. Meg McLellan and her husband came round yesterday, a duty call on the sick CO, and I recognised her from a photograph, and I showed it to her, there were three of you. She said it had been taken at Luke Pendry's funeral, and she said the third officer was Tess McKee, and that she often wondered what had become of her. Harm, I couldn't her tell that Tess was dead too; I just couldn't.

And you were safe, you were out of the navy, you weren't flying jets, and then we beat the odds, we got our own little four per cent miracle, and I was so mixed up. I so badly wanted a baby, this baby, and I knew how tough a struggle it was going to be to keep him or her, and I was comforted by the thought that at last you'd be around. I wouldn't be like so many military women, being left to cope with a pregnancy on their own, and that you'd be safe, and you would be here to look after me. And then when you called to say you were back in the navy, I was so scared. Scared of being abandoned again, scared of trying to cope with being pregnant and on my own at my age, scared that you'd end up flying again, scared that another Rabb," she laid her hand on her stomach, "was going to have to grow up without a father, and you sounded so happy, no maybe not happy, but, I don't know… relieved, maybe. Or even cheerful and accepting and I got so mad… and I'm sorry. I do, despite everything, love you, and I want to go on loving you and having you love me forever."

She looked across at him and he could see how difficult it had been for her to reveal so many of her hidden secrets to him, secrets that he suspected she hadn't even told Commander McCool, her therapist back at Bethesda. But they had both said a lot tonight, a lot that with which they badly needed to come to terms. It would have to be digested in smaller, bite sized pieces if either of them were to make any sense of what had been said, but not tonight. Tonight they would sleep and tomorrow, now their starting blocks had been positioned, maybe they could get started on the marathon attempt to save themselves.

Harm stood up and extended his hand to his wife. "Come to bed," he suggested, "come to bed, let's just sleep on this, together."

With moist eyes, and emotionally tired, Mac stood, and taking his hand she turned with him and they walked into the bedroom. Together.


	23. 21 October 2007

**AN:** Reorganising the chapters for this story has meant that I lost the previous acknowledgements for the support I have received. So to set the record straight, I would like to thank those who make the effort to read and review Jennifer Coates, and to acknowledge the support and encouragement those reviews give me from (in no particular order): **_ jpstar57, CiaraG, alix33, Saissa, DD2, Barbarossa Rotbart, Xadan4, MATT29man, Michi_uk, & GibbsFan._** and a further thank you to those of you who put this story on your Alert or Favourite Story lists, but I'd love to hear a couple of words from you too, once in a while; they don't have to be praise, constructive criticism helps me to become a better writer!**  
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**Sunday 21 October 2007**

Jen's wakening was not the best Sunday morning experience she'd ever had. Securing from work last evening, she had returned to Cape May avenue to be ambushed by Fran, Tim and one of his buddies, a Mike Some-body-or-other, had never caught his last name, or she couldn't remember, and now didn't want to remember it, and despite her reluctance they had kept on and on at her, nagging that she was turning into a house-mouse and that it was a freaking Saturday, for God's sake, so would she just get her ass in gear, get into some half-way decent clothes and come on out with them, and just for this one evening try and have some fun!

Reluctantly, but recognising that Fran wasn't going to stop her efforts at persuasion, Jen had let herself be talked round, but with the stipulation that she was not going to go out to downtown San Diego on Saturday night, and neither did she feel like dancing, and that the others would have to wait until she was good and ready. The lively discussion that followed ended with Fran suggesting that they all just walk round to Gallagher's on Newport Avenue. Apart from the drinks and the Saturday night live music it was also within walking distance and it was in a well populated area. With agreement reached on the place and location, Jen excused herself to shower and change, and having showered and wrapped herself in her bathrobe was not surprised to find Fran waiting for her in her bedroom.

"What's with this Mike, guy?" Jen demanded, fixing Fran with a gimlet stare.

"Oh, it's just that I know you don't like being a spare wheel, and he's one of Tim's good buddies, so we thought that he could just sort of come with us tonight, and add a bit of symmetry..." Fran replied diffidently.

Jen with hair dryer in one hand and brush in the other, stopped brushing for a moment and said severely, "You and me, lady, are going to have a long, long talk about this; you know how I feel about being set up, about blind dates, and all the rest of that crap!"

"Oh, no!" Fran protested, a bit too quickly Jen thought suspiciously, "It's nothing like that! Mike knows it's not a date, it's just a couple of drinks with a buddy and a couple of his buddy's friends!"

Jen although still not quite believing Fran, resolved that for the moment she would give her blonde friend the benefit of the doubt, but decided her uniform of the day would consist of jeans and a baggy sweater. She definitely did not want to give any false signals by dressing in what might be considered a provocative manner.

Events had proved that her worst suspicions were correct. The early part of the evening had been fine, but with more than just a couple of beers inside him, Mike, mistaking Jen's relaxed attitude, itself the product of more than the two beers she normally allowed herself, had apparently come under the impression, that romance had become a possibility, and she had spent the latter part of the night trying politely to fend off his unwelcome advances which had become more and more persistent until she was eventually forced to call "Red light Marine!"

She had seen the warning signs earlier, of course, and had been tempted to persuade Fran and Tim to call an end to the night, but they had been so plainly enjoying themselves, that she had been reluctant to spoil their evening. That as she had been forced to acknowledge later had been a mistake. She had even considered leaving and going home by herself, but despite the well-lit streets and the number of people on them, she'd feared that might be a bigger mistake. As it was, as soon as they had returned to the apartment, she had bidden the three of them a somewhat chilly goodnight and had retired straight to her bedroom. She had heard the murmur of voices for a few minutes and then the sound of the apartment door closing and the security chain being slotted into place. Then, as she had anticipated, there had come a gentle knock at her door and Fran's voice softly calling her name.

Jen was tempted to let Fran in, but knew if she did that there would have been a major argument between the two of them, and at the moment she didn't feel equal to any further upsets this evening, so deciding that if challenged tomorrow, she would clam she had instantly fallen asleep she ignored her friend's attempts to call her.

Now, this morning, she felt like crap. Part of her discomfort was the remains of her annoyance with Mike, with Tim, with Fran and also with herself for allowing her friends to badger her into a night out when she hadn't wanted one, but part of her discomfort was physical. Since re-qualifying as a Legalman she had become almost abstemious, limiting her alcohol consumption to a couple of glasses of wine, or glasses of beer, on weekends for the most part, and the unaccustomed amount she had consumed last night had left her feeling unwell. Dreading the thought, but knowing that she would make a faster recovery, Jen groaned her way out of bed and after scrubbing her teeth and mouth had pulled on T-shirt and shorts and headed for the bike path.

Her pace this morning resulted a far slower than usual speed and it was nearly an hour before she stood hands on knees outside the apartment block, feeling dehydrated and still unwell, but at least now capable of facing a cup of coffee and bagel, whereas before the very thought of food had made her want to hurl. Climbing painfully up the steps to the main door, Jen was thankful that the presence of the elevator meant that she didn't have to try and climb the stairs to the third floor, and pressed the call button to bring the car down to the first floor.

The apartment was still and quiet when she entered, the 'Do Not Disturb' sign hanging from Fran's bedroom door. Still feeling out of charity with her friends, and still slightly queasy, Jen decided that she would pamper herself and have a half-hour soak in the bath before showering, and if Fran or Tim woke up and needed the bathroom while she was locked in there then they would just damn well have to wait!

Mattie too had woken feeling out of sorts after a fretful night's sleep. She loved Stacey, of course she did, but she wished he wasn't putting so much pressure on her to decide and act now. It was nearly the end of October, and her birthday was coming up in late November, so they had only five weeks to wait. What was the big rush? Yeah, she was sure he loved her too, he'd said so often enough; and she'd seen the sincerity in his eyes, and yeah, she got his impatience, but...

Jason Tiner woke to find his arm around the sweet-scented body of the woman who incredibly it seemed to him, particularly after their unconventional first meeting, had decided that he was worth taking a chance on. He tightened his arm slightly around her waist and she murmured something in her sleep and squirmed just that inch or two nearer to him. Smiling he used his free hand to brush the richly glowing red hair from her forehead and planted a gentle kiss on the freshly exposed skin. He smiled again, he was in no hurry to wake her; he enjoyed the feeling of peace that came over him during moments like this, but, and his smile broadened, he also loved the just awake kitten look she got when she opened her beautiful green eyes first thing in the morning.

Harm woke up to find Mac raised on her elbow and looking at him, he started to smile and then remembering where they were, and the reasons they had for being there, he turned on to his side to face her and said softly, "Good morning, marine," and reached out to brush her hair out of her face, and leaving his hand resting on the junction of her neck and shoulder.

Mac's own smile was as constrained as his own but her "Good morning, sailor," was also just as gentle, and yielding to the weight of his hand, she raised her head to his and they gently brushed lips. Withdrawing slightly from each other they lay looking each into the other's face, and Harm as he looked at her was struck yet again with just how very beautiful Mac was, and how very much he loved her and how desperately he wanted them to climb out of the hole their silence and closed-off emotions had dug, and into which they had tumbled.

At length he asked, "How are you this morning?"

"After last night's talk, you mean?" she enquired with a lifted eyebrow.

"Yes, that too," he said with a slight frown,"but I was wondering how you were feeling physically... you know... nausea?"

Mac didn't answer immediately, but her face wore an abstracted expression as she mentally ran a systems check on her body. Eventually she half-smiled, reached out to smooth the worry lines off his forehead, "No, no nausea at the moment," she said slowly, "and no cramps either," she paused significantly, "yet. Why?"

"I just wanted to know whether I should offer to make you breakfast, or whether you'd tear my head off at the mention of food this early in the day."

Mac considered for a moment or two and then with a grateful smile, said "Yes, I think I could manage breakfast. What did you have in mind?"

"I didn't get much at the store, so how about some OJ and I could do some eggs and toast?"

"M'mm sounds good. How do you want to play it, shall I shower first while you cook, or should we eat first?"

"Mac, do you really think you can shower in the five minutes it's going to take me to scramble half a dozen eggs?"

Mac grinned, well aware that once she got into the shower it would be nearer twenty than five minutes before she was ready to call it quits. "Oh, I guess I'll be really decadent then, I'll breakfast in my PJs, and shower later, but first I gotta do my teeth!"

"I'll be on your six in five minutes," Harm warned her as Mac, throwing off the covers, rolled out of bed.

Breakfast completed in friendly silence, Harm cleared away the kitchen wreckage, and mindful of the altitude which added to the chill of late October, went outside to bring in more logs for the fire, which after a bit of trial and error, he persuaded back into life. Hearing Mac now in the bedroom, he passed through into the bathroom for his own shower, before rejoining Mac in the living room, where she handed him a mug of freshly brewed coffee. Accepting it from her with a"Thank you," he indicated her own mug and asked with a slight air of surprise, "Coffee for you too?"

"No such luck," she sighed ruefully, "still on tea." and then looking at him straight in the eye said, "Harm, we've been avoiding this since we woke up; we still got a whole lot of talking that needs doing."

Harm tilted his head back, resting it on the couch, "Mac, you said a whole heap last night, and to be honest, I'm still processing a lot of it. But I was awake a long time thinking over what you'd said, and it seems to me that you were always afraid in one way or another. No, I'm not doubting your physical courage, I would never do that, I've seen you in so many tight spots that no-one could ever say you shrank from any threat. There have been times that you've been so brave, that I've nearly been physically sick when I thought about it afterwards. I don't even doubt your moral courage, I've seen you make the tough decisions, I've seen you do the right thing, even at tremendous cost to yourself. And I love you deeply for your bravery. But... from what you said last night and yesterday at home, it seems that you are afraid of your own feelings, and you're afraid of losing me. Mac, I can't promise you that I'll live forever, just the same as you can't promise me that either. It hurts to say it, but one of us one day, will leave the other behind, but I swear Mac, that if I'm the one who leaves, it won't be because of a scrap of paper that says 'Divorce Decree' on it. In the meantime, I promise you that I will not even think about asking about re-qualifying for flight status. I've got a shore-based staff billet in the same station as my beautiful wife, and our beautiful baby, and there is no way that I'm ready to risk all that I've wanted for so many years just to strap on a plane. I spoke to Cresswell, and taking into account the gaps in my service record we worked out that I have six years left for my thirty; he has promised me at least three of those years here in San Diego, and has promised the same for you. After those three years are up he will find two more billets within reach of each other, but he pointed out that I have reached my ceiling, my resignation had put too big a ding in my record, but I don't regret that, not for one second. We made that coin toss together and I lost; I lost the toss Mac, but I won you, and that one little win has made up for all the years we danced our dumbass little dance. It made up for all the times I lost the courage to say that I loved you, and it made up for all the hurt I felt every time you backed off or pushed me away, and it made up for all the hurtful things we said to each other. And we did hurt each other, you hurt me and I'm damn sure I hurt you, and for that I am, and will forever be, sorry."

Harm drew a deep breath, "The one thing I can't figure out is why you were so determined to be the top-dog in our relationship, when all your other relationships had been with men who dominated you, and they had all failed for precisely that reason. Couldn't you see that the reason that you drew back from those affairs is exactly what drove me to backing off from you?"

"It was all part of the testing. It's strange, I felt that if the men in my life were allowed to control me, then it would make them happy, and they wouldn't leave me, wouldn't abandon me, and I'd be safe forever. But at the same time, I was so unhappy, I was the one person in my life that made the decisions, I didn't need a man to make those decisions for me - even when I made the wrong decisions, I stuck by them so that I wouldn't appear weak or vacillating, and we all saw how well that worked out for me. At times I screwed up my professional life as badly as my personal life. How Chegwidden got away with putting me on an Admiral's mast instead of getting me court-martialled, I'll never know - and that's just one instance when I got personal and professional crossed over. And I did it to you too; you told me right when I first arrived at JAG, don't let your emotions into the courtroom, and let what happens in the courtroom stay in the courtroom. I never could do that, and I was wrong, but I knew I was wrong, and you were right, and I used to resent you, oh, so much for that too. But the testing part, that wasn't meant to push you away, it was meant to make you fight me, meant to make you stand up to me and say, 'the hell with your damn dumbass games MacKenzie, just for once we're going to do this my way'. But you never did say that, and I used to get so damn mad at you! It didn't seem to matter what I did you never seemed to be able to open up and tell me how you were feeling. Hell, you never ever came right out and said those three little words; they seemed to scare you so much. And then when you were right on the verge of saying them, when we were down in Paraguay, I was the one who got scared and I damn well ran away again, straight to Webb! That was a hell of a thank you I gave you! I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd turned round and really married Catherine Gale as soon as you got back to DC - hell! I've just realised, that's why I was so uncomfortable around her at the hospital - I was still jealous of her! I didn't tell you, but I met her at the OB clinic, she's married and her husband's just been stationed here!

"You were jealous of Catherine Gale? I told you about it at the time; it was a fake wedding to please her mom, when we all thought that she was dying. No one ever expected her to rally, it was supposed to have been a quick fake ceremony, dammit, and we even got Bud to act as the minister! Harm smiled at the memory, "It was one of the weirdest services ever. There were no rings, and we had called Bud in such a rush that he downloaded the first order of service he could find, and it was only when he was reading it out loud that he discovered it was a civil service for gay marriages!"

"But you did say that you were willing to try and have a relationship with her once you'd found out she was pregnant didn't you?" Mac challenged him.

Harm nodded, "Yeah, I did. It didn't see that it could matter to you at the time. You were happy with Webb, and, I... I was getting tired of waiting for you in the hope that maybe, one day... maybe... you nearly did it then, Mac, you nearly succeeded in pushing me away for the last time. If Catherine had said 'yes, let's give it a try', I'm not sure where it would have led us. Thank God Catherine was way smarter than I was, she never hesitated, just shot me down in flames on the spot and told me I was much too high risk, and high maintenance, but if I ever found out what i really wanted, I should give her a call if I decided it was her. But it wasn't. I got what I wanted, in the end, I got you!""

Mac stared at him incredulously, not quite sure as to what part of the story she should respond, but the scene of Bud reading, masquerading as a minister and reading out a gay civil marriage was too funny to resist, "That whole story is just so like you, and so like you to get caught up in it, and just to help a damsel in distress! But you... the order of service... you never told me that part... about the order of service," she complained, trying to stifle her giggles, "that's the funniest part of the whole story...! And... and... it's so like Bud!"

Harm grinned, partly at the memory, but partly at in relief at seeing the sombre expression lift off Mac's face.

"I wonder if Mrs Gale is still alive?" he mused out loud, and seeing Mac's look of surprise, and maybe just a hint of suspicion, he smiled reassuringly at her and said fondly, "You'd have loved her Mac; she was dying, and she knew it, but she had so much spirit that the couple of time I saw her you'd never believe it, and she had all her wits; she knew before she could be told that Catherine and I weren't really married, she'd suspected it on the night, but said she wanted to let Catherine have the pleasure of thinking that she'd pleased her mother. And then when Catherine was pregnant she said she was grateful to have lived in exciting times, with reckless aviators, and the prospect of bastards in the family - those were her words, not mine. If she's gone, and she must have by now, she was so very ill, I hope it was easy for her." To his confusion he choked over the last few words, his eyes stung and the face he turned towards Mac was full of sorrow and sympathy for an old lady whom he hardly knew.

Mac looked at him appalled at her own lack of knowledge about a man she had known for, what had he said? eleven years. And then a sudden anger rose in her; how could she have known about something like this, something that had affected him so much that just the memory of it brought tears to his eyes, and that he had kept hidden for over three years. It was so damn' typical of him!"

Fighting to control her temper, she said "This is the sort of thing that makes communicating with you so freaking hard, Harm! Look at you, it's blindingly obvious that Catherine Gale's mother really affected you, but it's taken more than three damn years for you to tell me about her! Why? Did you think I wouldn't understand you admiring the sort of courage that you've just described?"

"No, Mac, I didn't think that. I thought you'd be jealous."

"You thought that I'd be jealous of a dying old lady? How perverted do you think I am?"

"Not jealous in that sense Mac, maybe envious would have been a better word. But... you're right too; I do tend to keep things locked up, and maybe I should be more open, but the thing is Mac, some of the memories I have locked away come from a much darker place than Esther Gale, and you just saw how that made me feel. Is it any wonder that that I don't want to hold them up in the sunlight?"

"But not all your memories are bad?" Mac asked worriedly, concerned that Harm was beginning to sound depressed.

"No, of course not, some of them are golden moments, that are very precious, and I keep them hoarded away like Scrooge. And some of them are glorious memories, but I can't share them because I'm afraid they'll hurt other people; people who maybe weren't around when the memories were made, but people who I love now; people like you, Mac. But Mac, I'm not the only one who shuts people out, how many times in the past when I've tried to get close to you, maybe not even as a lover, but as a concerned friend, for you to slam the door in may face and tell me that your private life was not open for discussion?" He snorted, "And then in almost the very next breath you'd demand to know what was going on my life."

Mac got up and walked across to the kitchen unit where she refilled the kettle and plugged it in, and then still leaning with her hands flat on the work top, she turned her head towards Harm and asked, "Where do we go from here?"

Harm sighed, He had been asking himsel that same question ever since they had started talking, really talking, last night, and he hoped that he had come with an answer, "We could talk all around this in circles for days on end, playing a twisted version of 'he said, she said' and not come to a satisfactory conclusion, so how about we both state, one at a time, our specific concerns, and see if we can each give the other an undertaking not to make those concerns into a reality?"

Mac thought for long minutes while she brewed tea and coffee, while Harm waited patiently for her answer. This was a step that both had to take voluntarily. Harm knew that his seemingly simple proposition was almost a proposal for them to reaffirm their wedding vows.

Now carrying both mugs back to the seating area, Mac looked at him and said, "Do you mean something like I say, 'I'm scared of you being killed flying a jet'?"

"Yeah, just that, and then I answer that concern, and I say 'I promise you that I will never pilot a jet aircraft again.' Then it would be my turn, and I might say, 'I hate it when we're having a fight and you storm out of the room - or slam the phone down on me.' And there's the positive side too. Like 'I don't resent leaving the navy to make you my wife, I would do it again tomorrow.' You see, Mac, despite what you yelled at me over the 'phone, it was never a sacrifice for me, it was a question of what was I willing to give up. One time you asked me if I would give up my girlfriend for you, and I said yes, but you'd already stormed out of the room. This time it was give up the navy to be with you, or give up you to be with navy. Mac, it was a total no-brainer!"

Mac looked stricken, "Was it really that simple for you Harm?"

Harm looked deep into Mac's eyes and replied, "Yes, it really was."

Mac nodded thoughtfully, not dismissing Harm's declaration, but hugging it to her, "This voicing concerns and answering them, yeah, I could see how that might work... would we need to write all this stuff down?"

Harm grinned, "What and leave a paper trail for some lawyer to ferret out when I've let you down? I thought you knew better than that!"

"No... you've never done that, Harm, even when I've accused you of it, you've never let me down... you've always been there for me... Other people have seen that, even if I haven't always. Did you know that Jennifer Coates ripped up at me back in Falls Church for being ungrateful to you? Before the Admiral reconsidered his decision about firing you, Jennifer came to see me in my office and asked to speak freely. She wanted to know why I wasn't standing up for you. I said it was because the Admiral had threatened me with insubordination charges... she really ripped me a new one that day! She reminded me of the risks you had taken, both professional and personal to pull me out of the mess that Webb had gotten us caught up in, and I was too scared of an entry in my SRB to stand up for you. If that was the case, then I was worse than ungrateful, I was a coward... And then she did it. She told the Admiral that he was being pig-headed, and stubborn and unreasonable, and she was ashen-white when she did it, and she was trembling, but she did it, because she saw that you were worth the risk. How is it that everybody else could see you for what you were and I never could...? I'm still having trouble with that in some ways I suppose; otherwise we wouldn't be here..."

"Mac, we're not perfect... I certainly never was, although I tried hard to be, and I guess that sometimes made me come across as a bit stiff and a bit of a prig... Until you told me last night how scared you were when I flew, I never really understood. Yeah, I know all pilots' wives say they're scared, but then most of them have never had to look at a crash site, or witness a ramp-strike, or... or have someone go down in the middle of the ocean, and it wasn't until you told me last night about how you felt seeing the fireball, that I realised just how terrified you must have been. No wonder you kept pushing me away, with all the people that had left you, you couldn't face losing another one. I am truly sorry for that Mac, but I just didn't see it, you see, all my life I knew I was going to be... no, I knew I _was_ a pilot. Being a Lawyer is something I _do_, and I'm damn good at it, but a Pilot was something I _was_. And I didn't see how that must have been for you, too self-righteous, too self-absorbed and too... priggish, I guess."

"Sturgis called me that once... He knew I loved you long before you did, sometimes I wonder if he didn't know it before I did..."

"Yeah, and he didn't help either, his constant push, push, push, get it sorted out between you crap, 'you're infringing on my space', just didn't help. He always seemed too ready with the advice, when his own private life was a mess. At the same time he messed up with Bobbi Latham, he was trying to tell me to tell you that I loved you, and that we should make that commitment and stop dragging him in to our fights. But, that was then this is now; we don't have a Sturgis to blame for muddying the waters, and we... we made that mistake ourselves, but we also made a commitment to love each other once, Mac; can we do it again? To love each other, to be more open and more honest with each other and Mac... what it really comes down to: to trust each other?"

"Love, openness, honesty and trust? I think I like those concepts Harm. Yes, I say we can do it!"

Harm turned towards his wife and said, "Yes, We can do it!"

Miles Caldwell left Las Vegas for Dulles, Washington earlier than he had anticipated, Isabel Webster had pulled a magic string for him, and for this one seat alone she had earned a more than ordinary end of year bonus, and if Bob was fit enough for work again, then he'd put him on the payroll too, he could always use another good rig-chief, and Bob was just that. The explosion and fire on the Gulf platform had not been his fault. The federal investigation had shafted Bob on that one, and it had cost him his job, but Miles had had Watson carry out his own investigation, and the true fault had lain far higher up the corporate food chain that a Deputy Rig Chief.

Isabel, he found, had even managed to re-arrange the rental that George had booked for his use, and within half an hour of the passenger jet's wheels thumping on to the Dulles tarmac, Miles was in the driving seat of the big, black BMW and heading down the I-95 towards Richmond.

His reception at his lawyer's home was as generous as he had known it would be, Julia, George's wife he knew had a long-gone crush on him and having got over that was not only a charming hostess, but could be depended upon if it were needed to 'phone around her many friends and come up with a suitable date for almost any occasion. On this visit, he laughingly told her as he returned her welcome hug and kissed her smooth cheek, her services as a match-maker would not be required, this was strictly business, and ostentatiously ignoring her pretended pout said that he really did need a drink, and a word with George.

"George," she told him in acid accents, "and a drink, may be found in the pool-parlour! Make sure you close the door when you go in, I don't want the smell of his awful cigars all over the house!" Turning on her heel she stalked away, the perfect picture of an insulted southern belle, the effect only spoiled by the provocative sway of her hips and the openly saucy grin she threw over her shoulder just before she whisked through the door at the far end of the hall. Grinning in appreciation, Miles made his way to the well remembered and so called pool parlour which housed a full sized billiard table together with a pair of overstuffed leather chairs flanking a low table in front of the bow window, which was currently open to let the smoke and smell of George's fine Havana cigar waft out in to the open air.

"Exiled again, George?" Miles greeted him with a flash of his usual cynicism.

George wheezed his vast bulk to his feet and waddled across the room to meet one his most lucrative clients, "Miles, good to see you! Good to see you! Come in and sit down, but before you do," he nodded in the direct of a glass-fronted cabinet on the side wall, "pour a drink for yourself, and I'll have just a pinkie's worth of the Glennfiddich, if you'd be so kind. Hah! Exiled, did you say?" he asked as he lowered himself with sigh of relief back into his chair, and accepted a half-tumbler of the malt whisky; Miles having correctly interpreted a 'pinkie's worth' as a more than generous measure, "well, I let her think she's runs me as well as she runs the house, but it's getting so that I prefer to sit here and think quietly, than argle-bargle about my right to smoke what I like wherever I like in the house that I bought and paid for long before I married her. Mind, Miles that was probably the best day's work I ever did, marrying Julia." His fond smile faded, and fixing his somewhat watery and pouchy eyes on Miles, he added seriously, "You will look after when I'm gone, won't you Miles?"

"Yes, of course I will. How long George?"

The older, bigger man shrugged, "Depends on which quack I see. One says six months to a year, another to two three months. It'll come when it comes. We've known it's coming for a while, Miles. We just don't talk about; upsets the mem-Sahib, dontcher know!"

"Yes, I'll make sure she doesn't get bilked George."

"Dammit, that's what I like about you Miles, you don't give a crap, there's no, 'can't the doctors do anything', or 'you mustn't give up hope, George', or 'you can beat this George, if you would only try', try! Miles I've been fighting this for years. I'm tired of fighting it! But enough of this crap! You didn't come clear across the country to talk about my useless heart! Here you are, all the paperwork you wanted, it just needs your signature, here and here, and here and the properties are yours."

As Miles reached into his pocket for his pen, George leaned forward and grabbed his forearm, "Miles are you really sure that you want to do this? Three point nine?"

Miles carefully removed his old friend's hand and said, "Yes, George, I really do want to do it. I finally need a home."

"Miles! Really? Are we going to tell Julia?"

"Not just yet, George."

"Well, OK, we've waited all these years; I guess we can wait another...?"

"Couple of weeks, I hope."

"Well alright then. Now, you are staying for dinner..."

Jen was sat at her computer in the corner of the living room area, working on one of her overdue Psychology Class papers, when Tim emerged from Fran's bedroom and his way to the bathroom but his "Good morning, Jen" went unanswered, and grimacing at the fall out that was sure to come he left Jen to her work. His reappearance some twenty minutes later was likewise ignored and he returned to Fran's bedroom to tell her that he fully expected a shit-storm to break over their heads as soon as Jen had calmed down enough to deliver it.

Fran, never at her best in the mornings groaned and flopping back on the bed covered her face with the pillow. Jen wasn't the sort of person that usually held a grudge and once she'd blown up at them it would be OK, but she could certainly make things uncomfortable while her pre-storm brooding lasted. Fran knew that if there was to be any sort of sense of ease in the apartment today, then she or Tim would have to take the bull by the horns and provoke Jen into venting at them. The problem was that Jen would probably not, at first, believe that Fran had honestly not meant to give the impression to either Mike or Jen that she had proposed some sort of double date. She'd have to get up some time and start the ball rolling, it might as well be now, after all, she consoled herself the sooner it started the sooner it would be over, standing she wrapped herself in her bathrobe and whispering, "Wish us luck," to Tim she grabbed his hand and towed him out into the living area. Nervously licking her lips, she tried her opening, and in a bright breezy voice that didn't quite hide her apprehension she called out, "'Morning Jen."

Silence.

"Umm, Good Morning, Jen."

Silence broken by the clicking of the computer's key board as Jen resumed typing.

"Good morning Jennifer."

Silence and stillness as Jen froze at the keyboard.

"Good morning Jennif..."

"I heard you!"

"Oh, well, you didn't have to say good morning back, but an acknowledgement of some kind would have been handy," Fran replied in a conversational tone, "it would have let me know that I hadn't lost my voice, or that you had gone deaf, no matter what you said."

"And what makes you think that I would want to say anything to you, at all?"

"Well, let me see. How about you're pounding your keyboard like you were trying to drive six-inch nails through a ten-inch board, you're glaring at the screen as if it was showing you that you had snakes instead of hair, and, as I can't really see how the computer could upset you like that, and there's only Tim and me here, that could have made you mad, and that you're not much into sulking, then it wouldn't be long before you started to rip us a new one, each, and that would mean you saying something to us, so you might as well start now!"

Jen swivelled around in her chair, "Oh, you are so right lady! I have told you and told you, that I don't need setting up with anybody. I have told you and told you time and again not to spring surprises on me! I don't appreciate them, and I don't appreciate having to spend a Saturday evening when I'm tired from a working weekend, having to fend off some damn' drunk jarhead that's got more hands than freaking octopus! That Fran was absolutely the last time you ever do that to me! Try it again and I'm out of here! I mean it!"

Fran tried to keep an impassive face. Jen really was mad at her this time, but it hadn't been meant to be like that. "Jen, I am sorry that you had such a crap evening, but really, I wasn't trying to set you up with Mike, and neither was Tim. Mike only shipped back from Afghanistan a couple of weeks ago and Tim thought..."

"And Tim thought, oh, good ol' Jen, she's single; she won't mind putting out for a poor lonely jarhead who's been risking his life for her, is that it?"

"No! Jen, honestly..."

"It's OK, Fran," Tim interrupted, "I can speak for myself! Jen, it wasn't supposed to have been like that at all! It all started off small, and then it kinda snowballed. Like Fran said, Mike shipped home a couple of weeks ago and he's supposed to be on leave still, but he was staying at his brother's house, and had a fight with his brother's wife, who told Mike to get out. So he reported back early. He asked me if I wanted to go for a drink with him last night, I explained to him that I was meeting Fran, and he looked so down, that I don't know why, but I mentioned that Fran had a roomie..."

"And so he thought that he'd get lucky? After what I told you only a few days ago Fran, about me and casual sex and one night stands, what on God's earth made you think that this Mike would be any different, that he'd make me drop 'em and spread?" Jen demanded both with sarcasm and a filthy look at Tim.

"No, we didn't think that," Tim responded while Fran gasped at Jen's unusually crude language, "I told him that, if you agreed to come, it would be to make a balanced party, and that was all."

"Well, if that was your message, he didn't read it right!"

"No, he didn't Jen, but I'm not going to say sorry for something I had no control over. But, you're right; we should never have sprung him on you as a surprise, I am' sorry we did that, and we should never have pressured you to come out with us when you didn't want to, and I'm sorry for that too. And I'm sorry that I didn't know he was going to turn out to be a jerk until it was too late."

"And I'm sorry Jen, that Tim and me were too wrapped up in each other to see what was happening right under our noses, until you called him on that red light. I was going to offer him the couch, but after that I had Tim tell him he wasn't welcome to stay. I think he spent the night in his car, but I don't really care where he spent it! Jen, I am sorry that we screwed the pooch on this one, and I promise that we won't do it again, ever!"

Jen was still by no means completely mollified but the obvious sincerity in Fran and Tim's faces and voices persuaded her to accept both their account of events and their apologies, and although she was still upset, she couldn't stay mad at Fran for too long, and if she couldn't be mad at Fran then she couldn't very well be mad at Tim, either. But... she wasn't about to let them off the hook quite so easily, or quite so soon. "OK then, I'll think about it. But mind what I said Fran, any repetition of last night's starting scenario and I'm out the door for good!"

Stacey Caldwell wasn't in a panic yet, but he was becoming increasingly uneasy at the delay in his plans due to what he thought of as stupid female reservations, he'd told Mattie he loved her, and at least he could manage to live with her once he'd taught her a thing or two about married life; and she'd said he loved him, so what the hell was all the delay about. His last venture to the poker table hadn't been as successful as the previous one, and he just about had enough left to cover his current bill at the hotel and keep enough for table stakes for tonight's game. Hoping that Mattie wasn't hanging around with that interfering Coates bitch, and that her parents - or whatever they were o her - were still out of town, he'd tried calling her on her cell, but she had called him Susan, and said that she couldn't get over for a study period, as she was being taken to La Jolla to visit her grandparents.

Stacey was now totally confused. He'd thought that Mattie's family came from Virginia, and that bother real parents were dead and all the family she had was that stupid woman who ran round in a Marines Uniform and some nebulous Guardian who was tied down in DC for the duration of some dumb grand jury. But that still didn't solve his problem, which was to get Mattie on her own and get her to see the error of her ways, pack her bags and get on the first available flight to Las Vegas.

Mattie put her 'phone down, she hadn't liked lying to Stacey, but it was impossible to talk to him properly when Trish was constantly hovering; she could have done with some privacy right there. She loved Trish, who really was like a grandmother to her, but it was impossible to talk to a boyfriend when parents and grandparents were listening to every word. Of course, if she could walk properly, she could have just strolled away casually, another reason to let Tony Cameron chip out that splinter, or whatever he'd called it, of bone that was causing all the trouble. Man, she couldn't believe how a whole nearly two years had gone by without anyone figuring out what was really wrong with her. For so-called smart people, some doctors were really dumb!

"Who was that on the 'phone, Mattie? I didn't like finding out that we were going to La Jolla without you asking me first."

Mattie flushed guiltily and squirmed in her seat, now she was going to have to lie to Trish as well, "Uh... it was Susan Henderson, from my Lit Class, she's got together a study group to go through Hamlet this afternoon, and I just didn't want to go. I mean, I do school five and a half days a week. I kinds like to keep my Sundays free."

"Why on earth don't you just tell her that?"

"Well, she's such a brainiac that all she ever talks about is keeping her straight A's and acing out on her SATs with a sixteen hundred score, as if!" she finished with a scornful sniff.

"Well if she is obviously not such a friend of yours why would she even think of inviting you to her study group?"

"I don't know, Trish, I just don't know. It's not like I'm that good at Lit, and she hangs around with a bunch of Heathers too.

"Well, I don't know what that means, but from the tone of your voice, I think it's something that I don't want to know, either! So, if you don't want to go to study group with this... Susan, was it?"

"Uh huh."

"If you don't want to go to study group, what do you want to do his afternoon?"

"Uh, I dunno... go over to Ocean Beach, and say hi to Jen, or go to see Linda Graham. You know, where you picked me up from yesterday..."

"H'mmm, I don't know about Linda, Mattie, you were there yesterday. You don't want to wear out your welcome. Maybe we'll take a trip over to Jennifer's, but we'll have to call her first. In the meantime, young lady, you can set the table for lunch!"

Mattie who had been oblivious to her empty stomach heard it growl in anticipation of being fed, and looking across at Trish saw the grin on her face.

"Uh, did you hear that, Trish?"

"Mattie, I should think that Frank heard it! Didn't you have breakfast this morning?"

"Yeah, coffee and a bacon bagel," Mattie admitted, flushing red with embarrassment.

"Is that all? No wonder your tummy's rumbling, you must be starving!"

"Not really, it's a sort of automatic reaction to the thought of your cooking!

Mattie wasn't idly flattering Trish, who, although she didn't try many exotic recipes, was just as good a cook as Harm, which meant that she much better than Mac, and she didn't insist on an almost totally vegetarian diet. Sure, the veggie option was supposed to be healthier, but Mattie figured that if humans weren't supposed to eat meat they would have incisors or canine teeth!

Oh... hell!"

"Whatever's wrong Mattie?"

"You're probably going to kill me for this, and I do know it's definitely good news that Harm's coming home, but that means he'll be taking over the kitchen again!"

"Lord, yes!"

"And that means more of his dam... oops, sorry Trish, but that means more of his delicious tofurkey recipes!"

Trish looked at Mattie with a dreamy smile on her face and sighed, "You know, Mattie Grace, there's a lot to be said in favour of living in La Jolla!"

They both laughed, as Mattie levered herself out of her chair and went to do as Trish had asked, to set the table for lunch.

Robert Graham had come to a decision and went in search of his mother whom he found on hands and knees and with a trowel in her hand as she renewed her constant battle with the weeds that threatened to overrun her flower beds. One of the penalties, she recognised, for living practically in the ocean where sea breezes picked up every kind of undesirable seed and deposited them on her garden.

"Mom, I need to speak with you,"

Alice Graham sat back on her heels and shading he eyes with a gloved hand, squinted up at her son under the brim of the floppy cotton hat she wore, "Robbie, you can talk with me anytime you want; what is it?"

Robert stretched out a hand to his mother and steadied her as she got to her feet, and waiting until she brushed a little dirt and a few blades of grass off her knees, he said, "I've poured us out some lemonade, why don't we go sit in the shade and let you cool off?"

"Cool off? Robbie, it's not hot! Unless," she added, as suspicion awake in her breast, "you mean to tell me something that will make my blood boil?"

"I hope not mom," Robert said as he positioned one of the back-porch garden chairs to avoid catching the sun. "Here, mom, sit down, a minute," he waited until she did, and then handed her a glass of lemonade.

"M'mm, good," she said appreciatively.

"It should be," he said with a grin, taking his own seat, "you made it!"

Alice Graham put her glass down by the side of her chair and looked at her son. The progress he had made remarkable progress in the last couple of weeks, although to her anxious eyes he still did not look as fit or as healthy as she would have liked, and he was still more skin and bone than was strictly healthy. "Alright," she sighed, "out with it, what's on your mind?"

Robert fidgeted with his own glass, and then looking his mother straight in the face said, "Tomorrow, I'm going to call Uncle Henry, and tell him that I'm fit enough... that I want... I need to go back to work."

"Robbie, no! You're not well enough! You aren't fit enough, no matter what you think, to go back to hiking all over the Amazon jungle! No, I won't have it" Alice Graham was suddenly very near tears, she had had to endure so much loss already, and maybe she was being over-protective, but she wasn't about to let Robbie go back to South America, where some filthy disease had so very nearly killed him, and would probably finish the job if he went back!

"Take it easy, mom, I don't plan on going back, I'm dumb, yeah, but I'm not that dumb. Uncle Henry has said that there's a vacancy in the San Diego office in the mineralogy department. It's an office job, nine to five, Monday to Friday, with maybe a Saturday here and there."

Alice Graham managed a weak smile of relief and she took a sip of her lemonade, "Well, I wish you'd come right out and said that Robbie, it nearly did make my blood boil!"

"Yeah... mom...?"

"Yes?"

"Um, his is a bit awkward. It's Stacey Caldwell. I know he's a favourite of yours, but I really don't like him... hanging around the house, I mean... He's kinda, well, too interested in young girls, kinda creepy, you know? And if you could find some way of tuning him of, maybe?"

"Why, Robbie, I thought he was a friend of yours?" his mother answered in some surprise

"No, how can he be?" I never met him until he showed up here - uninvited too!"

"But I thought... he's Miles Caldwell, nephew, and that he came to visit you because you, because Miles ..."

"Mom, as far as he knew, he'd never even laid eyes on Miles before they met here. How can he have come to visit me? How could he even have known about me? No, I'm pretty sure he comes here to meet Linda's friends, and God knows how they first met up with each other!"

Alice Graham looked shrewdly at her son, "Linda's friends, or one friend in particular?"

Robbie turned faintly pink and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "All her friends, of course, mom, I wouldn't trust Stacey Caldwell with any one of her friends. And I'll tell you something mom," his voice becoming stronger and more decisive, "if I even thought he was here to hang around Linda, I'd have thrown him out into the street long before now!"

"Are you quite, quite sure that you wouldn't like to do just that, because he's hanging around _one_ of Linda's friends?"

Robert shrugged and gave up, "Mom, I'm not going to say that I'm not struck with Mattie, but I'd hoped I wasn't that obvious. Well, we've just seen how that worked out!" he grinned ruefully, "but Mattie's far too young for me, and if she's too young for me than she's way far too young for Caldwell."

Alice Graham wasn't too surprised by Robert's almost-confession, "Robbie, Mattie's nearly eighteen now, and she's a fine young woman. She'll be going to college next fall, whether she gets in to the navy academy or goes elsewhere. You're six years older than her. At eighteen, you're right, that's a big gap. But when she graduates she'll be twenty-two and you'll be twenty-eight, that's not quite such a big gap. And then she'll take a couple of years to establish herself, and she'll be twenty-four, you'll be thirty. The gap closes, you see? So, if you really feel like that about Mattie, you'll have to wait. For another thing, you're not re-established yet, and you need to find your own place in the world before you really start to think about commitment. But, I'll help, and in your best interests, I'll make it clear that Stacey Caldwell is no longer welcome here!"

Harm and Mac had spent a good couple of hours adhering to the protocol of taking in turns, with no interruptions, in exchanging concerns about how they felt about each other and giving assurances that those concerns need no longer be a cause of friction between them, and that they would be more open and honest with each other, and that they still did and would continue to love each other. Both had become emotional as they were brought to feel just how deeply their insensitivity had wounded the one person whom they loved. They had drawn the session to a watery-eyed end, and Harm had restored some balance when he had proposed that they had a Pop Walchowski lunch. A puzzled Mac had looked at him until he had grinned and explained, "Tuna and mayo sandwiches, remember?"

Mac had remembered and had laughed. Pop Walchoski had been the old time, retired army Air Corps crew chief who had owned Grace Aviation hangar before he had sold it to Mattie's mom. Six days of the week he had brown-bagged his lunch, but all her ever made, or had his wife make for him, and been Tuna and mayonnaise sandwiches.

Laughter and lunch had dispelled some of the somewhat claustrophobic atmosphere that had been generated during the intense discussion of the morning, and tranquillity was further restored by a long, slow afternoon stroll along the lakeside path, both wrapped up well against the mountain air's chill, and contentedly strolling with their arms around each other's waist. The healing process continued into the evening over a long, leisurely dinner and a shared seat on the couch as Harm and Mac looked back again at their shared past, but now reminding themselves and each other of the good times, and talking, with their hands joined over Mac's stomach of the good times that were surely coming, until eventually as the fire died down, Mac undraped Harm's arm from around her shoulder and standing, said "Harm come to bed."

Jen sighed as she took a final look around the living area before she turned the lights out and headed for her bed. After the bawling out she'd given Fran and Tim this morning, the atmosphere had remained a little on the tense side, although the making and eating of a shared brunch had eased the situation, but it had not been until the arrival of Mattie and Trish that the unease had seemed to dissipate entirely, but Jen knew that things would not be quite as they had been before for a day or two yet.


	24. 22 October 2007 am

**24**

**Monday 22 October 2007**

Jason Tiner lay in bed propped on one elbow as he watched his... his what? his woman? - that sounded so possessive; his partner? - despite the last few weeks, that might be just a tad premature, but he could hope; his lover? - yes, that worked for him, because they weren't just having sex, they were making love. Having reached his conclusion he relaxed and took pleasure in her beauty as she sat naked except for a towel over her lap, in front of her dressing table and dried her hair, and feeling himself become aroused as the actions of her arms raised, flattened, tautened and then relaxed her breasts. Feeling his eyes on her, she shifted slightly so she could see his reflection in the mirror, and smiled, "See anything you like there, sailor boy?"

"Well," he drawled, "There's a real pretty little navy lieutenant that lives here, or so I'm told, and I was just wondering whether you'd seen her anywhere."

"Oh... prettier than me?" she asked with a pout but with a twinkle in her eye as she stood up, losing the towel in the process, and turning towards him.

Jason gulped as his throat dried and closed, "Oh, God, no," he managed in a thickened voice as she knelt on the bed and bent down to kiss him, "never happen," he concluded as she broke the kiss and laughingly evaded his reaching arm.

"You know," she said, as she stepped into a pair of panties, "you're not so bad yourself, and last night was..."

"Good?" he asked her, with just a touch of anxiety in his voice.

"Oh, yeah," she breathed, with a fond smile and fastening the catch on her bra, "Last night was good, really good."

Last night had been good, really good, Harm thought as he mixed the batter for pancakes. They had been amazingly close, the closest he'd felt that they had been for a long time; not just physically close either, there had been a return to a warmth and a comfort that he hadn't even noticed had been missing for quite a while.

He'd woken before Mac this morning and had lain there, indulging in one of his favourite pastimes, watching her while she slept, but eventually he had forced himself out of bed and showered before strolling down to the site store to buy eggs milk and flour.

On his return he had found Mac lying in bed and propped on an elbow. He perched on the side of the bed and leaned over her as she raised her face for his kiss, but he felt a degree of restraint in her return kiss, and pulling back he saw a shadow in her eyes.

"What's wrong, marine?"

"It's Monday, isn't it? Somehow with all the talking and walking and ... well, somehow with all of it, I kinda missed what day it was..."

"And that upsets you how?"

"Well, it's not like me to forget what the time is, but, no, it's not that. It's Monday, it's oh-seven-twenty-three hours and you should be on your way to North Island to report for duty! Harm, you're going to be UA in forty-seven minutes."

"Give me a little credit, jarhead, modern technology is a wonderful thing. I called Admiral Bartlett's CoS when I arranged this jaunt, and I told him that due to the unacceptably short notice I was given that I'd need until Wednesday to get back from DC and get my life squared away."

"And he said?"

"Well, he wasn't any too happy about it, but I told him that he was dealing with a disgruntled Harmon Rabb and if he didn't like it, he could shove up his own tail-pipe!"

Mac looked at him half in awe and half terrified that the next time Harm reported for duty he'd be dragged away in handcuffs by a couple of beefy Masters at Arms, "You can't tell an Admiral's Chief of Staff to shove it up anywhere Harm! How much trouble are you going to be in?"

"None at all, Mac. He fully accepted my reasoning, told me to take the three days, and that he'd clear my six with the admiral." The wrinkles beginning to form at the corners of his eyes raised Mac's suspicions, and raising herself so that she sat back on her heels, and hugging the pillow to her breast, she gave him a measuring look. He was definitely not telling her the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help him if he didn't come clean! Mac gritted her teeth for a moment before she spoke, "Alright, flyboy, and remembering your - our - commitment to openness and honesty, what aren't you telling me?"

"Bartlett's CoS and I go way back, to before I quit flying the first time," he grinned at her like a small boy caught in mischief, "Do you realise that this is the third time I've given up flying?"

Mac's breath caught in her throat as she heard the note of regret in his voice, "No, this is the third time you've said you're quitting flying. So, maybe the third time's the charm, but quit changing the subject flyboy!"

Harm had heard Mac's slight sharp intake of breath and thinking that it was caused by a renewal of her fear of flying, his flying, he quickly answered, "No, Mac, there's no maybe on this. The third time is definitely the charm. Bartlett's CoS is Commander Tom Waitie, otherwise known as Cherokee; he was on the Seahawk at the same as Mace and me. I went to school with Annie, his wife, and I introduced them at our graduation ball, and I went to their wedding in Norfolk. But..."

He held up his hand as Mac, who had by now resumed her lying position said "Get on with it, Harm!"

"_But_, he repeated, I just reminded him that he owed me a favour... or two... and that I was calling them in!"

Mac felt the tension drain and silently rebuking herself for fearing the worst, but this time in encouraging tones prodded him, "Yeah, OK, go ahead, I'm beginning to enjoy this."

Harm's grin was slightly sheepish this time, "Well, it was about two months after Tom and Annie's wedding; we had a few days in Naples, and we were on liberty together. And there was this little cafe-bar place..."

"Of course there was," a now-smiling Mac commented.

"with a rather attractive bar-tender..."

"Naturally."

"And Tom got to flirting with her... nothing serious, just a spot of joking and laughing... Anyway, this bar-tender had a father, who came erupting out of the nether regions of the place waving this damn' great kitchen cleaver. So there was this girl hanging around Tom's neck pleading with her father not to kill him, Tom, who barely knew half a dozen words of Italian, trying desperately to get the girl's arms from around his neck and yelling _si signore_ at everything that papa was screaming at him. We got out of there eventually with the only damage being to Tom's dignity. Until papa turned up at the gangplank two days later wanting know why his daughter's fiancé hadn't showed up at Mass so he could talk to the priest about the wedding. Apparently part of the price for Tom getting out of the bar with his... er... assets still in place was agreeing to marry the girl. Poor Tom had to stay hidden on board for the whole week were in Naples!"

Mac chuckled, "OK, it's a nice story, but what has this got to do with this Tom guy owing you favours?" she queried as she tried to figure what possible connection there could be, and then as she considered the implications, her smile faded, Harm knew Annie, to whom Tom had been married a couple of months, an attractive Italian bar-tender, and the old saying 'what happens TAD, stays TAD'..."Let me guess, Annie never found out?"

"Yep, got it in one! Well, sort of..."

"And you used your knowledge of this story to get a three day pass?" Harm nodded happily, his flyboy smile threatening to break out. Mac continued her silent analysis of the situation, and a shocked expression came over her face as she drew her final conclusion, "You... you blackmailed him! Harm, you can't go around blackmailing people like that!"

"Why not?" he demanded in a reasonable voice, "It worked didn't it?"

"Well, yes, I guess, it did..." Mac still looked dubious, she knew Harm could be manipulative when he needed to be, but this was sneaky, underhanded, and... yes, face, it funny, and effective! She felt her face crease into a reluctant grin, "Yeah, it worked, and it is kind of funny, too."

"Yuh think?" scoffed Harm, and carried on with his tale, "the funniest bit is yet to come: Annie's known for ages, but she's never told Tom she knows - Tuna let the story slip out at a squadron July Fourth picnic years ago!"

Mac looked at him utter disbelief and then chuckled, the chuckle grew into a full throated laugh and she gasped through her laughter, "That... is one... of the funniest... things... you've ever told me! But... how come... you never... told me this... before?"

Harm grinned and shrugged.

Now, as he spooned the batter on to the smoking hot griddle, he looked around the room. Their go-bags were packed and stood by the door, and their flight suits were draped over the arm of the couch and Mac was stood behind him her arms around his waist as she looked over his shoulder.

"That batter's too thin."

"No it's not."

"Is too."

He twisted his head around as far as he could and just managed to kiss the tip of her nose, "Says you. There never was a jarhead who could make pancakes worth a damn!"

Mattie unbuckled her seat belt and opening the green BMW's door swung her legs out and levered herself to a standing position. Turning around she opened the rear passenger door to retrieve her school bag and sticks, "Thanks, Trish, see you at three-fifteen! Gotta run!"

Trish smiled and gently shook her head as she watched Mattie make her way up the pathway to the school building steps, the youngster was so predictable in so many ways, at home she was quite happy to be affectionate and give Trish a hug and seek her advice on almost every aspect of life, except this boyfriend of hers, but put Mattie anywhere where her friends might see her, and she almost by reflex became a cool, laid-back and non-demonstrative teenager. Well, if she'd had no previous experience of teenage girls she'd certainly had experience of a non-demonstrative teenage boy, particularly during those last two years before Harm had gone on to Annapolis, so she guessed she could survive Mattie's little peculiarities. Including, from what she'd heard, this most peculiar boyfriend. Not that Trish was overly worried, from talking to her friends at home, those of them with teenage nieces, daughters and granddaughters were full of anecdotes detailing the crushes and infatuations of their young relatives, and the general consensus of opinion was that the more violent the crush the less time it was likely to last. Of course there were likely to be a few tear-storms and a day or so of an utterly miserable teenager doing her best to make everybody else in the home just as miserable, but then the next crush would appear on the horizon, and then the whole cycle would start again. Fortunately, Trish was told, when the youngster reached eighteen, she'd be off to college, and by the time she graduated, she had nearly always somehow evolved into a half-way decent human being! Of course, she comforted herself, she'd never been like that, she had been the very epitome of well behaved decorum. She smiled reminiscently, like hell she had!

Mattie was at that moment standing at the top of the school building steps, waiting for Trish's BMW to roll away from the drop off point, and half raising a hand as it did so. The second it was out of sight Mattie propped her sticks against the adjacent wall and leaning back against the hand rails for support she dug her cell 'phone out of her pocket and scrolling through the speed dial menu until the highlight bar was over Stacy's number pressed the call button.

Stacy Caldwell frowned as his cell 'phone disturbed his thoughts, and looking at the caller ID and recognising Mattie's number, he decided he could let this call go to voice mail and returned his attention to counting the pile of bills scattered over his hotel bed; just under nine thousand, not as profitable as last week's game, but he wouldn't have had this much if he hadn't been able to be a just little bit creative in dealing the cards when the deck was passed to him. OK, he'd had to throw a couple of decent, probably winning hands, just in case his 'luck' had aroused suspicion. Now, if he could somehow use last night's winnings with what was left from last week in a really high stakes game, he even now might be able to clear his mortgage arrears, and if so, then the money he'd be able to raise from Mattie's property could re-finance his lifestyle... yeah, he thought, things were working out pretty good. Or they would be, he told himself with a scowl, if he could only get that silly little bitch to play her part properly.

Jen hadn't been back at her desk for very long, she had beaten Commander McLellan in to work this morning and had prioritised the morning's incoming correspondence and filed and flagged it ready for the acting CO's attention and waiting five minutes for the Commander to settle at her desk had brought her the armful of files and in response to the officer's request ad brought her a fresh-brewed cup of coffee. Now she could concentrate on her own work. She smiled, she could get used to this, the lack of drama and angst, the not having to worry about anybody but herself, or about anything but her work. Well, that wasn't strictly true, she was also concerned about her relationship with Fran; the atmosphere back at the apartment was still a bit strained, but, she mentally shrugged, she and Fran had had their spats before and they'd always managed to work these things out. What was more, she reflected ruefully, was that she was at least as much responsible for the argument as Fran; she had, maybe, overreacted just a mite. Her concentration was soon disrupted, however, by the arrival in front of her desk of a face that seemed vaguely familiar.

"Petty Office Yeoman Third Class Rebecca Williams, reporting for duty, Legalman One". Of course, the young Petty Officer who'd been on emergency leave. Jen looked at her critically, it had been only just over two weeks since the attack on Falls Church, but Williams looked about three years older than Jen had remembered her, but then so had Harriett Sims while she and Bud Roberts were trying to adjust after he'd lost his leg. Jen continued her appraisal, Williams' hair looked dull and lifeless and her face was not only drawn but showed marked black smudges under eyes that looked as dull as her hair. Williams not only looked ill, but she also looked as if she didn't care about anything.

"At ease, Williams," Jen said not unkindly, as she rose from behind her desk, "I'll let the Commander know you're here."

Jen waited to be told to enter the inner office, and then halted in front of Meg McLellan's desk, "Ma'am, Petty Officer Williams has just reported back from emergency leave..."

Meg was puzzled; this was a routine administrative matter, "Why are you telling me this, Coates?"

"Ma'am, Williams' husband was WIA at Falls Church, he's lost an arm. Ma'am, Williams reported here on re-assignment from Falls Church just as we heard the news of the attack. Colonel MacKenzie turned her straight round and set her back to Virginia on emergency leave. She's just got back ma'am. And ma'am, she's not twenty-one yet, and she's looking kind of fragile."

"Fragile, Coates?"

"Yes ma'am, she looks like cra... I mean she looks tired, and ill, and... old?" Jen's last word had definitely taken on the rising tone of a question.

"Alright Coates, let me have her SRB, and give me ten minutes to read myself in; no make that fifteen minutes, and get me a line to Sergeant Brewer in DC, please."

"Aye, aye, ma'am!"

Jen printed a fresh copy of William's SRB and her orders assigning her to San Diego JSLT, and having delivered them to the Commander, turned to leave the office, when Meg, told her to wait. Turning back again, Jen stood at 'Parade Rest; while she waited to hear what the office had to say to her.

"Williams is assigned here to act as assistant to our Administrative Officer, which," Meg added with a wry grin, "in our case we have not got."

Jen bridled in anticipation of some sort of comment that would imply that the lack of an Admin Officer was her fault, but was pleasantly relieved when the Commander continued, "I believe Lieutenant Graves has been pinch-hitting in that department?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Pass the word for Lieutenant Graves, then please, Legalman."

"Aye, aye, ma'am"

Catherine Graves arrived promptly in response to Commander McLellan's summons and in passing through the Yeoman's office had seen, but barely noticed, the figure of the young Petty Officer waiting on one of the hard chairs spaced along the end wall of the office. Having knocked, waited for, and received the command to enter she stood in from of Meg Mclellan's desk, her face alive with curiosity.

Meg looked intently at the younger officer, and was hard put to keep from smiling. There was something about the blonde lieutenant that reminded her of... dammit, she thought, she reminds me of me, when I was about her age!

"Take a seat, Lieutenant," and waiting for Graves to get settled she continued, "There's a Yeoman Three Williams waiting to see me. She's just got back from emergency leave at Falls Church..." she briefly outlined Williams' situation, concluding with, "and from what the Colonel's Legalman cum Yeoman tells me, she's pretty fragile right now. Now, as we don't currently have an Administrative Officer, and as you are trying to do that job as well as your own, I figure you could probably use some help. Williams is supposed to be assigned to our non-existent AO, so I'm assigning her to you. Keep her busy, Lieutenant, don't give her time to brood, but keep an eye on her as well. She could do with a mentor to help her find her feet here; can you recommend a responsible, maybe older PO she could look to for help if she needs it?"

"Uh... Yes, ma'am. That would be Popeye, ma'am!" and the seeing Meg's eyebrows racing towards her hairline, Catherine Graves hastily explained, "I mean Petty Officer Personnel Specialist Two Martin, ma'am!"

"Popeye?" Meg asked in some amusement, "Is he really that old?"

"Not quite, ma'am," Catherine replied with a slight smile, "but he is pretty close to retirement, and he does smoke a pipe, ma'am! Although," she added conscientiously, "I couldn't swear that he eats canned spinach!"

Meg fought to contain her own smile at Lieutenant Graves ingenous comment, "Uh-huh, and what makes him so particularly well-suited to mentor Williams?"

"Two teenage daughters ma'am. One daughter is at UCLA and the other in her senior year at high school. Mrs Martin too ma'am, has a record of sort of being a den-mother to the younger, particularly female, enlisted personnel."

"Yeah, that might help too..." Meg said thoughtfully, and looking at Williams' SRB she noted that the young woman's home was in Delaware, she was too far away from home for any direct, immediate family support, and she was vaguely surprised, now her husband was almost certainly going to be discharged from the navy, that her orders re-assigning her to San Diego hadn't been rescinded. But that was something she could and would investigate once she'd interviewed Williams. But for now, looking back at Graves she merely said, "Thank you, Lieutenant. I'll tell Williams to report to you as soon as I've done with her."

Catherine Graves stood and replied, "Aye, aye, ma'am, and ma'am?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Ma'am, thank you, I really could do with the help, especially now, when I'm wearing two hats!"

"Yes, Lieutenant," Meg said dryly, "I imagine you could! That will be all, dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am!"

Meg watched the officer she was coming to think of as a younger version of herself leave the office and then stabbing the call button on the inter-phone she said, "Yeoman, send PO Williams, in please."

As the young Petty Officer approached, Meg gave her a swift but through visual inspection, Coates had said the girl, she was really still too young to be called a woman Meg thought, looked 'fragile', and she wasn't too far wrong in her description.

"At ease, Petty Officer..."

By the end of the interview Meg had reached a variety of conclusions, firstly the Petty Officer was emotionally as well as physically exhausted, that she was angry at the navy for re-assigning her to a duty station the other side of the country from her husband and her family in the first place, at whoever had fired the missile into the JAG building, and again at the navy for cutting her husband's arm off, and for their already stated intention of separating her husband from his career on medical grounds, and for again separating them when she wanted to stay by her husband's side. But Meg had also concluded that what Williams needed, as opposed to what she wanted, was to be separated temporarily from her husband, as cruel as that might sound. Williams had wound herself up to such an emotional pitch, that a short respite away from her husband was essential if she was going to hold it together. But even she reached that conclusion Meg worried about the long-term effects Edward Williams' injuries would have on such a young and new marriage. Well, she comforted herself; she had done what she could to ease the Petty Officer into her new duty station, only time would tell if the two youngsters had in them what it would take to survive their personal tragedy.

Jen watched Williams walk away across the bull-pen, the girl didn't seem to be happy, hell, she had enough reason not to be doing a number from 'Mama Mia', but it felt as if her unhappiness was more, sort of, deep-seated. Jen was reminded of those painful months in Falls Church when Harm had been out of the navy, and had cut all links with JAG, particularly those links to a certain Lieutenant Colonel of Marines. God, Mac had been savage during that time, almost as if she'd had permanent PMS, and thinking about it, the last few weeks hadn't been much better, but this time round she'd had more reasons than just Harm's absence to press her buttons. Still, now that he was back in San Diego, and back in the navy, maybe Mac could calm down. She chuckled softly to herself as she wondered, very briefly, what would be more important to Mac, having Harm back in San Diego or having him back in the navy!

Catherine Graves responded to the knock on her door frame with "Enter!" looking up from her notepad as Williams came to a halt in from of her desk.

"Yeoman Third Class Williams, reporting as ordered ma'am."

"Come on in Williams, take a seat." Catherine waited until the girl had done so, before continuing, "I am really glad to have you on board, Yeoman! We're a bit short-handed around here for the moment, and I'm trying to wear two hats at the same time. I should be the PA Officer for this team, but I've also been given TAD as the team's Admin Officer, so my plate is pretty full. What I mostly need you to be for me, for the moment, is a filter, to keep any unnecessary crap from getting through my door from the bull-pen. I don't expect you to be able to do that right from the get-go, but I'm sure that once we get the hang of working together and we've both learned what the other considers to be crap that well get along just fine. But to start with we'll just get you settled in today. Have you been allocated quarters, or base housing?"

"Yes, ma'am, I've got a rack in female BEQ until..."

"Until your husband joins you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Have you applied for base housing?"

"Yes, ma'am, but we're hoping to find somewhere off-base..."

"H'mm, OK. So if that's sorted for the time being, let's get you squared away here at work. Your leading rating here is YN1 Andrews. I'll take you to him, and we'll get you a desk and something to sit on."

"Aye, aye, ma'am!"

Harm banked the Stearman round to the left as he lined up for the final approach to Montgomery Field, he and Mac had made a leisurely breakfast, and even she had admitted that his pancakes were "OK, I s'pose," lukewarm praise that had raised an indignant protest from the breakfast chef until he had seen the gently mocking amusement in her eyes. The check out and return of the rental had one smoothly and an hour after breakfast they were airborne and the little yellow biplane was droning smoothly southwards. Now having touched down at Lone Pine to refuel they were almost home.

While Harm saw that the Stearman was safely hangared Mac took their go-bags and disappeared into the ladies' locker room to emerge some twenty minutes later dressed once more, "as a civilised woman", as she put it, and with her flight suit rolled tightly under her arm, as she strolled across the asphalt apron to meet Harm at the parked Lexus. As she drew nearer she could hear him talking on his cell 'phone, "That's fantastic Tony! How did you manage to do that so quickly?... Yes, they must have, and I owe you a huge one now for using yours on our behalf! Yes, certainly, at Bob Wilson at fourteen hundred hours tomorrow. Yes, I'll tell her, nil by mouth after twenty hundred hours this evening. Well... I don't know about her yet, but I am! Yes, of course, understood... Thank you Tony, yes, I'll make sure she understands. Yes. Thank you again. Give our regards to Sally, please."

Realising that Mac had joined him, he turned towards with his eyes shining, but before he could say a word, she spoke, "That was Tony Cameron... and he's got a date for Mattie' s surgery?"

Harm was beyond words and could only nod speechlessly. Mac felt her heart skip a beat, as she moved into her husband's embrace and wrapped her arms around his waist as she leaned her head against his chest and felt the familiar pressure of his chin on the top of her head.

Leaning back just enough so that she could look up his face she asked simply, "When?"

"Tomorrow, fourteen hundred hours... we need to be at the MedCen by twelve-hundred."

"Uh-huh," she murmured into his chest, her head once gain tucked under his chin, "did I hear you mention 'nil by mouth'?"

"Yeah, no food or drink for Mattie after twenty-hundred hours this evening, so..."

"So, you'll have to cook her something very special for dinner tonight, sailor - and no rabbit food. Make sure she gets a proper dinner!"

"What, like a Beltway Burger?" He teased her gently.

"Ohhh, I so miss those burgers" Mac sighed, "they were absolutely the best thing about DC. And," she said, pulling back to the full extent of his arms, and scowling fiercely at him, "that is one of the reasons I was sooo pissed at you for being in DC this last six weeks - you had all the access anyone could ever want to Beltway and I knew you wouldn't even give them a passing thought!"

"Oh, I thought about them all right, Jarhead, I thought of all that artery clogging fat and grease that wasn't coating your circulatory system!"

"There are times, Squid, when you take all the fun out of life!"

"H'mm, so I've been told, but then again, I've also been told that I can sometimes, be a lot of fun."

"Oh yeah?" The effort of keeping a straight face was proving too much for Mac, and her face started to crease in a grin, "Who told you that?"

"You did!"

Her delighted laugh rang out and was answered by the silent laughter dancing in his eyes, as he drew her back to him and silenced her laughter with his lips, and then holding her close with her head once more tucked against the hollow of his shoulder, he felt again the overpowering love he felt for this strong woman he held in his arms.

"Mac... Sarah, I am so glad we had these last couple of days together, I was so afraid I was losing you..."

"Harm, "she murmured into his chest, "me too, I thought I'd driven you away with my fear and jealousy."

"That is never going to happen, I am never going to leave you, Sarah MacKenzie."

She answered through her smile with her old, loving challenge, "Don't make promises you can't keep, fly-boy."

Although her old nickname for him, which was now no longer applicable, sent a pang through him he responded with the words he knew she needed to hear, "I haven't yet." And although challenge and response had over the years become almost ritual neither of them doubted their sincerity.

They stood for long moment in silent friendship, lost in their memories until he sighed, "C'mon, Sundance, let's get you home. We need to get hold of Mattie, and get her prepared for tomorrow."

"Yuh think?"

"Yeah, I think!"

"Yeah, you just keep thinking, Butch, that's what you're good at." Their laughter at another long-time shared joke let them slip free of each other's arms and move on towards the car together.

Catherine Graves walked into the break room to find Jason Tiner, the new kid on the block as she thought of him, and Annette Walker standing at opposite ends of the worktop, both leaning back against it as they cuddled mugs of coffee in their hands. Catherine smiled when she saw that their postures were identical, probably unconsciously, almost as if they were... My God, they are! she realised with a jolt, as the significance of their body language leapt into her mind. Well, well, well, who'da thunk it, she asked herself. She would love to get the low-down and dirty on what she was certain was a new office romance, but although she and Annette were friendly, they weren't really friends, well not close enough friends that either of them would be comfortable with her prying into the other woman's affairs. The apposite nature of her thoughts caused her to give vent to a brief, hastily stifled giggle, and as she poured creamer into her coffee, she was challenged by that so attractive, so lazy West Texas drawl, "What's tickled your funny bone, so all of a sudden, Catherine?"

"Oh, nothing, I was just reflecting on life, the universe and everything," she flung over her shoulder as she took her mug of coffee back to her desk.

"Well, do y'all think she suspects?" Annette demanded, suspicious in her turn, as she started at the doorway through which the taller, blonde officer had disappeared.

"No, how could she be?" Jason replied, "She's probably just trying to be enigmatic. He smiled at Annette, "Oh, come on, she is a bit of a drama queen, conspiracy theorist, isn't she?"

How do you mean?" Annette asked. She was not quite sure how either category precluded Catherine from suspecting her and Jason's fledgling romance.

"Well, it's this hobby she's got, she fancies herself as some sort of amateur detective, and sees dark plots everywhere she looks. The thing is she's got the wrong mindset," he grinned over the rim of his coffee mug, "instead of letting the evidence lead to the facts, she tries to make the evidence fit with her preconceptions."

"Two questions then." The red-headed lawyer threw back at him, her face losing all vestiges of humour, "Firstly, don't you think that her mindset and hobby actually make her more, not less dangerous? If she's got some sort of pre-conceived idea about us, doesn't that mean she'll be actively looking for evidence?"

Jason's own expression turned sombre for a few seconds as he considered Annette's points, "Yeah, it just could... but, I really don't see why you're so concerned about people finding out about us. No, don't interrupt, please. We're not breaking any regulations, we're the same rank and we don't indulge in inappropriate behaviour on duty or while we're wearing uniform, and what we do when we're not wearing uniform is highly appropriate anyway!" His grin returned as he finished speaking.

Annette, blushed slightly and ventured a small, embarrassed smile, "Yeah, I know all that," she sighed, "but I just want to keep my, our, private life private. And, Mister," she frowned at him again, "just how do you get to know so much about Catherine Graves' hobbies?"

"Do I detect a hint of jealousy there, Miss Walker? Catherine and I had lunch - in the commissary, before you ask - the second or third day after I got here, and I asked what was a nice girl like her doing in a place like this? And once she got started, she just kept going and told me that it was great for her to be working in a legal office, as it gave her the opportunity of collecting plots for the great detective novel she plans to write."

Annette chuckled at the thought of Catherine Graves writing a novel of any sort. "If that's what she wants to do, she really needs to talk to my uncle Chuck, back home to Texas. He could tell her all sorts of stories; all she'd have to do is record him and then type up a transcript! But, Jason, if she does write her novel, I really don't want us to figure in it!"

"God, no!" he exclaimed in horrified agreement. "If she does put us in it, then there'll be another murder to solve - hers!"

"Jason, don't say things like that around here - the place is full of lawyers!" Annette laughed as she protested his choice of words. Then smiling at him said, "C'mon you, if we don't get out of here soon, people _will_ start talking."

"Yeah, give me your mug; you go on ahead while I rinse them out!"

"What's this?" She asked as her eyebrows climbed her forehead, but her eyes gleamed as she queried, "are you ashamed to be seen with me?"

"Get out of here!" he grinned, not being fooled for a second, "and before you ask, I'm not being paranoid either - I'll leave that up to you!"

"Here," she said, handing him her empty coffee mug, and at the same time kissing the tips of her fingers and pressing them against his cheek, "and remember you're not paranoid if everyone _is _out to get you. Later," and with a grin she turned away from him, left the break room and headed back across the bull-pen.

Mattie bolted down her peanut butter and jelly sandwich and half the small container of grape juice that was her lunch and once again rooted her cell 'phone out of her jacket pocket. Tapping in Stacy's number, she waited for him to pick up at the other end.

"Hi Stacy, it's me, Mattie..."

"Hey, sweetheart, where are you?"

"I'm at school, on my lunch break."

Stacy scowled, although he was only too well aware of Mattie's age, he really did not like being reminded that she was still at school. Somewhere buried deep in his soul there was a feeling of discomfort. He wasn't ashamed of his actions, after all they were perfectly justifiable, but he hoped that there wouldn't be too much fuss when he finally persuaded the copper-haired teenager to take that now desperately needed trip to Las Vegas.

"Uh-huh. Are you ready to go, Mattie? Have you made your mind up? I have, and I can't wait to make you my wife, hon... I really miss you, and I'm tired of having to sneak around. I want to stand tall and proud with you beside me..." He managed to just shade his words with a tinge of pathos, calculated to make a major impact on his listener's ears and heart.

"How and when, Stacy?"

"Like I said, we get a flight to Las Vegas and then we can take our pick of any chapel - even the Elvis one if you want!"

"Eewww, there's no way I'm getting married by some geek dressed up in white Lycra!" Mattie laughingly protested. But despite her laughter, her doubts were beginning to make themselves felt. It wasn't that she didn't want to marry Stacy, after all she could never love anyone as much she loved him, and there was a sense of adventure in the idea of eloping and she wasn't afraid to do so, or to face the consequences afterwards, but there was the question of her surgery to be considered, and if that was successful there would have to be some - no, a lot - of intensive physical therapy to get her ready for the academy next summer. And even though she had not really considered the impact her actions might have on the others in her life who loved her, Harm, Trish, Jen and even Mac, the impact those same decisions would have on her own life could not simply be ignored. If she was to defy them, even though she knew they were wrong, how could she then turn around to them and ask for their help in paying for a college education, especially if she failed to get into the academy, and how could she ask harm for a letter of recommendation when she had betrayed him by doing something that she knew was contrary to his wishes. And Harm, she knew, was the one person in her life who without a doubt was thoroughly devoted to her best interests.

And then... Las Vegas... It suddenly seemed... seedy and not romantic. She'd never really had an image of the actual ceremony, where it was to be held and who was to conduct it, but Stacy's mention of a Las Vegas chapel, was just so... wrong.

"Las Vegas! Stacy, you cannot be serious. No. Not Las Vegas Stacy, you'll have to find a better way than that! Somewhere nearer to a proper wedding."

"I thought you didn't care about big white dresses, and flowers and all that sort of shi... stuff?" Stacy protested, fighting to keep an appropriate tone of voice.

"I... I don't... it's just that I don't want sleazy, either..."

"Oh, Mattie, I don't want sleazy either... but there are difficulties in getting married while you're still under eighteen, and I've got contacts in 'Vegas who can help us get round that!"

"Why can't we just wait until my birthday, and then we could have a proper wedding, with all our friends with us?"

"Are you afraid, Mattie? Because if you are, I'm not going to pressure you. If you feel you can't trust me, then perhaps we ought not to get married. I'll just go away somewhere and let you forget all about me, and I'll try to forget about you..." he let his voice fade pathetically."

"Stacy, No! I'm not afraid, and I do trust you, and I love you, and I'll never, ever forget you! Yes, I'll go to Las Vegas with you. A soon as you can book the flights! Call me and tell me where you can meet me!"

Stacey grinned with fierce satisfaction. Manipulating her emotions had been even easier than he had anticipated. "God, Mattie, your courage is just another reason for me loving you. I'll pick you up on the corner of Pacific and Harris, at five on Wednesday, and we'll be in Vegas by midnight. But you'll have to let me gon now hon, I need to call my buddy in Vegas and get your ID fixed. I love you."

"I love you too, Mattie answered him and waited until he ended the call before she folded her phone to put it back in her pocket, but Mattie had hardly ended the call when her phone rang again, the caller ID revealing Mac's number. "Hi Mac,"

"Hey, Mattie. Listen, Harm's on his way to school to pick you up early. We need you to come home right away, so go to the school office and wait for him there; he shouldn't be more than ten minutes, OK?"

"OK," Mattie responded but with her anxiety level rising. "Mac, what's wrong? Is it Trish, or Jen?"

"No, there's nothing wrong, honey, we just need to sit down and talk all of, Harm, you, Trish and me. Don't worry, there's nothing happening that will upset you. I promise."

"OK, Mac."


	25. 22 October 2007 pm

**A/N: **Still playing catch-up here! The next instalment will not take so long to publish - I promise!

**25**

**Monday 22 October 2007 pm**

Mattie waited in a fever of impatience, her agitation not helped by the uncomfortable wooden bench on which she was perched opposite the school secretary's desk. Usually this was the waiting area for those who had been sent to see the Principal on disciplinary matters, and although Mattie was generally a well-behaved student there had been a couple of occasions when her irrepressible sense of humour had got the better of her and her high spirits had had to be curbed by an intervention by the Principal. The combined effects of anticipation, physical discomfort and memories of less than pleasant interviews were not totally alleviated by the appearance of a casually-clad Harm, although she did feel some measure of relief as she noted the strained pinched look on his face that she had seen on the morning of his return from DC had now disappeared. Looking at him more closely as he drew nearer, she decided that he looked happier than he had done for a long time.

Harm grinned reassuringly as he took in the apprehensive expression on Mattie's face as she levered herself to her feet and was rewarded by a strained smile in return. Waving her to sit down again, he turned towards the counter between the secretarial staff and the public area of the office, and engaged the secretary in a low-volume conversation, twice turning his head to look over his shoulder at Mattie, and finally, as far as Mattie could tell, scribbling something on a sheet of paper the secretary had passed to him, before returning it to her.

Harm thanked the secretary and then turning towards Mattie he grinned and said, "Come on, then squirt, let's get you home," and waiting until Mattie was on her feet again, he held open the office door allowing her to precede him through the exit. Walking alongside her as she langlaufed down the hallway, he grinned down at her, and looking back up at him she decided that the grin was probably about a fifty per cent effort, so it was probably OK to take a liberty or two, "OK, Harm," she said, challenging him, "What the he... what the heck is going on?" she swiftly amended her phrase as his eyebrows started to draw together in a frown of disapproval.

His face relaxed and the grin re-formed as he took in, and thoroughly understood the reason for, the change in her words, "I can't tell you before we get home, Mats. If I did, then Mac would kill me; but trust me, it's nothing horrible... well, not too horrible," he ended with a chuckle.

Mattie threw him a disgusted look; she was hardly satisfied with the evasions he was so damn' good at, but that came with the territory she sighed to herself, if you allowed yourself to be taken as a ward to a damn' shyster lawyer. Except, and her heart warmed, Harm wasn't a shyster, he was marvellous, loving, kind and gentle. She freely acknowledged that he was the best thing that had ever happened in her life. And he wasn't one to bug her by hovering, she reflected as he waited for her to climb unaided into the Lexus, before he warned her to buckle up and walking around to the driver's side of the vehicle.

Although Mattie had mentally let Harm off the hook, there was no way she was going to let him know that, so she decided to maintain a dignified silence on the ten minute ride home. Harm took his eyes off the road for a few seconds to look across at his ward, she was so beautiful, and, he told himself, she was so cute when she was sulking; there was something just slightly different, slightly enchanting, about the way her bottom lip jutted out when she pouted. Still, once he'd got her home and he and she had sat down with Trish and Mac and told her what was happening, he was certain that the pout would disappear and she would dazzle them all with her grin which was as wide as the ocean, and so very, very beautiful. Yeah, right, he told himself, he'd already thought that about her, and maybe he needed to widen his vocab, or look up a thesaurus, but there simply was no other word to describe her.

Pulling up outside the house on Pacific Avenue, Harm waited until Mattie had climbed down from the car before walking around to join her, and then using the remote button his key fob he locked the car before walking beside her up to the front door. Mac and Trish had evidently been waiting for them; Trish was sat at the kitchen table while Mac waited in the hall to usher them in to the kitchen, and bearing in mind Mattie's reaction to the news of the scan, Mac had moved the chairs to ensure that Mattie was nearest to the kitchen door just in case she had to make a dash to the bathroom.

Mattie nervously took her seat and looked at the other three. Their faces wore almost the same expression a sort of grave but tender smile. Mattie nervously licked her suddenly dry lips and said, "Come on guys, please, what is it? You're scaring me..."

"There's nothing to be scared of Mats," Harm replied, "we have some news for you, is all..."

Ogmygod, ohmygod, Mattie thought blinking furiously in an effort to hold back a well-spring of tears, and remembering the strained atmosphere and the fighting between Harm and Mac, "Are you... are you... are you guys getting a divorce?" she gulped, managing to voice her worst fears.

Mac stretched her hand across the table towards Harm who reached out to take his wife's, while Trish's mouth opened in a silent 'O' of surprise before she glared at Harm and Mac, "See what your squabbles have done?" she demanded, but received no reply.

Harm and Mac shared so tender a look that, together with their clasped hands, told Mattie that she had jumped to a hugely mistaken conclusion, "Well you can't be telling me that Mac's pregnant; I already know that, so...?"

Harm smiled and said, "When we landed this morning, one the first things that happened was that Tony Cameron called. Your surgery has been scheduled..." Mattie gasped and went pale as Harm continued, "it's for tomorrow at fourteen-hundred hours..."

"That's two pee em, darling," Trish interrupted.

"Yeah, I know that, Trish," Mattie responded off-handedly, her eyes never leaving Harm's face. "Fourteen-hundred?"

"Yeah," Harm replied.

"Tomorrow?" Mattie persisted.

"Yeah, tomorrow," Harm answered, his response seconded by Mac's nod and by her smile.

"Well, I'd better go and pack my ready-bag, hadn't I?" Mattie said in a flat monotone and with a curiously blank expression, as she struggled to her feet.

"Mattie..." Harm began as he too rose and made as if to follow her, but was stopped by Mac's restraining hand on his wrist.

"Let her go, Harm. All of sudden she's got a lot on her plate."

"I thought... I thought she'd be... happy... or excited... or something!" he exclaimed in frustration at not understanding his beloved ward's reaction.

"Think about it, darling." Trish interposed, "She's been so used to having been kept in a wheelchair and now finally getting around on her crutches, and for all her brave words, probably resigned to spending the rest of her life with less than full mobility. Now this doctor turns up out of the blue, as it were, and says he can probably fix everything, and before she has a chance to really take that on board, she finds out that it's not happening at some vague time in the future, but it's really happening, and it's happening now. She needs a little time to adjust."

Harm stood at the kitchen table, his face a mask of indecision but his fingers interlaced with Mac's as she stared up at him, while he alternated his glances between his mother, his wife and the doorway through which Mattie had left the kitchen.

"I s'pose," he sighed, sitting again at the table, "but I just don't understand..."

"Of course you don't," Mac told him with a gentle smile, "in fact, you're not supposed to understand her; she's a teenager and would be absolutely mortified if you _did _understand her."

Harm flashed a token grin towards Mac and said, "I just thought that she might be a little bit more..."

"Like Trish said," Mac reminded him gently, "she's probably feeling just a bit overwhelmed right now."

Mattie sat on the edge of her bed, her open but empty duffel-bag lying at her feet. What was she going to do now? She frantically asked herself. Stacey would be waiting for her down the street on Wednesday afternoon, but if she had the surgery tomorrow, she probably wouldn't, despite what Tony Cameron said, be able to move very much the day after, and she wouldn't be able to keep her word. Harm had always said that a promise is not something to be lightly broken... but although she loved Stacey, she really wasn't happy about a Vegas chapel wedding. She didn't really see the need for what Jen had had outlined as desirable, the Church, the white dress, Harm in his Dress Whites, Mac in her Blues, medals and wings on chests, but there seemed something just wrong with sneaking off to Vegas. Sure, lots of people got married in Vegas, but...

Besides, she cast a look loaded with loathing at the crutches propped against the nightstand next to her bed, she was so sick of being a... cripple. There, she'd said it. Despite all the politically correct terms with which she had been deluged, there was no disguising that ever since that terrible night in Blacksburg she had been and was still a cripple. With her birthday coming up so soon, it surely couldn't matter if they waited just a little longer before she and Stacey got married. She would be able to walk properly down the aisle, be able to... to do what married people do on their honeymoon, and maybe even have kids at some stage... and she'd be able to do it without betraying Harm and Mac and Trish and Jen. So, yes, she'd have the surgery, recover from it, wait for her birthday and then tell, not ask, her family that she was getting married and that they should be happy for her...

x-x-x-x-x

Jen closed the file she'd been working on and rubbed her eyes. She was spending too long staring at her computer screen these days. But the work had needed to be done, Commander McLellan had said that this particular report needed to be prioritised, and now, after a rocky start, partly her own fault, she admitted, she and the Commander had settled down into a more comfortable working relationship. It can't have been easy for the Commander either, being parachuted in as second-in-command only to find that the CO was in hospital and then placed on hospital leave. Jen reckoned that those circumstances, added to the normal stress of a PCS and finding somewhere to live - the Commander couldn't stay in VOQ, after all they were for Visiting Officers - getting hold of a car, and then being separated from her husband, it was no wonder that the blonde woman had been a bit short with her at times. Of course, the length of time that Jen had known Mattie, Harm and Mac, and her time shared with Harm in looking after - well, co-parenting - Mattie, had blurred the line between their respective ranks, and in many ways they had become like an a family, a pretty weird one, she grinned, but a family nevertheless, with its own peculiar familial dynamic, and the Commander, an outsider, no matter how close she had once been to Harm, had had to try and cope with that too.

And if they were a family, she mused, where in it did she fit? Mac and Harm's roles were well defined, Mom and Dad, Mattie's place too, as the daughter. But what about her? She was Mattie's kinda-sister, but she certainly wasn't Mac's daughter, and as for being Harm's daughter - no way! There was no way on God's green earth that she felt, that she had ever felt, or that she would ever even want to feel like Harm's daughter, and she felt the same way about categorising herself as Harm's sister. She felt that there was something unwholesome in labelling herself as any sort of blood relation to the man... It was just too icky...

"Taking a break Legalman?" Meg McLellan's voice, not reprimanding, but not amused either, broke into her thoughts.

"Yes, ma'am," Jen replied, "just a five minute eye-break..."

"Uh-huh, well, when you're ready to re-boot yourself, can you print out the latest case status review, please, I need to check out exactly where we are on about thirty billion things all at the same time!"

"Yes, ma'am, will do," Jen promised, her hand already moving towards her computer's mouse.

"Thank you," Meg smiled. Now that Coates had stopped running around the state of California on private errands for the Colonel and her family, she had proved, as Harm had said, to be remarkably efficient and effective. "When you've printed the review, get me a line to Falls Chu... ah... the Navy Yard, please."

"On it, ma'am," Jen replied smartly, making a note on her telephone pad, and reflecting that it was going to take a long time before people stopped thinking 'Falls Church' when they thought of JAG HQ.

Meg McLellan was having very similar thoughts. Apart from the semantics of the situation, it didn't seem right to her that JAG HQ should move away from its former home. To do so would be letting the terrorists win. Besides, with the availability of office space at the DC Navy Yard there must have been some reason for locating JAG outside the city in the first place. Her musings were interrupted by Coates' call, "You're through to the Navy Yard, ma'am."

"Thank you, Coates. Hello, Sergeant Brewer...? Yes, I'd like to speak to the general please... Good morning, sir, Meg McLellan here...Fine, thank you, sir. Yes, sir, the old cry, I'm afraid, yes... the 'H' word again sir..."

Jen looked up from her computer screen as she became aware of a presence at the door to her office. Looking up, her fingers froze on her keyboard and she swallowed, hard, twice, and then rose to her feet. "Good morning, sir. How may I help you?"

The tall, tanned, blue-eyed, fair-haired and extremely good-looking Marine Major smiled at her, and replied, "Good morning, Petty Officer, Major Saunders, reporting under orders for re-assignment."

Jen almost gawped. This... this officer was re-assigned? Here? Oh! This was so unfair! She became aware of his amused eyes as on her and felt the beginnings of a blush. Furiously fighting down her reaction to his presence, she glanced at the desk-top switchboard and saw that the little red light on Line 1 that showed that Commander McLellan was still on the 'phone. "Uh, the Commander's on the 'phone right now sir, but..."

Saunders raised a questioning eyebrow, "Commander? I thought Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie was CO here?"

"Uh, yes, she is sir, but she's on hospital leave right now, until tomorrow, and Commander McLellan's her XO, so she's in charge, sir."

Saunders realised that the very attractive Petty Officer was still standing, and hurriedly said, "Oh, yeah, right. As you were, Petty Officer. Thank you," and waiting until Jen had re-seated herself, he asked, "Did I understand you say that Colonel MacKenzie is a female officer?"

Jen looked at him in some surprise. Surely Mac's reputation in the small world of the JAG Corps must be sufficiently established for most people to know that she was female. "Yes, sir. Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie-Rabb."

"MacKenzie-Rabb? Rabb, as in Commander Harmon Rabb?"

"Yes, sir... Sir, is there something wrong?"

"Wrong? No, no Petty Officer, nothing's wrong. I was just considering how small the world is! So, the Colonel's connected with the Commander?"

Jen couldn't restrain her smile, 'The Colonel and the Commander', a phrase leaping into the San Diego present, straight from the Falls Church past. "Oh, yes sir. Very much connected; they're married! And it's not Commander anymore, sir; it's Captain Rabb!"

"Captain, huh? Well, good for him!"

Before Jen could ask more - this Major certainly seemed to want to keep things on a cryptic level - the little red light on the desk-top exchange flickered out, and Jen reached out to press the inter-phone button, "Ma'am, I have a Major Saunders here, reporting in for re-assignment."

"Thank you, Legalman. Come in, please."

Jen stood and smiled at Saunders, "By your leave, sir." and rapped sharply on the doorjamb, and waiting for permission entered the CO's office. Meg looked across her desk as her yeoman halted in front of it, "At ease, Coates. Were we expecting this officer?"

"Uh, yes, ma'am, a copy of his Data Card is in your 'In' box, together with a copy of his orders."

Meg hastily riffled through the few papers in her in-box and came up with the print-outs she needed and smiled, "Thanks, Coates, I should have known you wouldn't slip up on something like this, but please remind me next time when we have a transfer in... just so I don't look and feel like a complete and total doofus!"

Jen looked at her acting CO dubiously, the words were one thing, but she still wasn't quite sure how to interpret everything the tall Texan officer said, but there was only one reply she could make, "Yes, ma'am."

Meg almost burst out laughing as a procession of expressions crossed Jen's face. It really was true, just as Andy had said. The poor girl was an absolutely open book; every thought, every emotion was written large across her face, right out there in the open for the whole world to read, and in that instant of realisation Meg McLellan felt a surge of sympathy and a need to protect the younger woman. With her thoughts and feelings so open Jennifer Coates was a very vulnerable young woman, no matter how tough and self-assured she tried to be. With an effort, she brought her thoughts back to the present and said, "Thank you, Coates. Please be good enough to show the Major in, and while we're talking, make suitable office arrangements for him please. With what's been happening around here, he's not going to have much time to sit on his six, but he'll need somewhere to park it while he reads himself in!"

Jen smiled, something had suddenly changed; she didn't know what, but she felt that it was a change for the better. "Aye, aye, ma'am!"

x-x-x-x-x

Mattie made her way downstairs to the family room where Harm, Mac and Trish were beginning to plan the logistic aspects of the following day. Mac needed to show herself at the office, not that she expected to do any work tomorrow, but protocol demanded that now her hospital leave was up, she returned to work, or risk being noted as UA. Harm, too needed to pay at least a courtesy call on Admiral Bartlett and to express his gratitude for allowing him to take leave. He hadn't worked with Bartlett before, but knew that he had been CAG on the _Eisenhower_ before serving as XO on the _Coral Sea_ and then going on to command the _Seahawk_, but without access to the senior officer's file, he knew very little of what his new CO had done since getting his first star.

Trish smiled as Mattie stumped into the room, "Come and sit down, darling, and we'll tell you what we've got planned for ourselves for tomorrow."

Mattie took her place on the couch next to Mac as Harm grinned and said, "Well, first thing, Mac and I need to present ourselves at our duty posts. Mac to tell Commander McLellan when she expects to take the reins again, and me to make a mighty grovel to my new boss, and all in time to get back here for eleven-thirty hours, when we'll bundle you and Trish up to the MedCen to meet Tony Cameron and get you started on the road to being back on your feet."

Mattie ran down the list of arrangements and added flatly, "You forgot one thing, Harm."

Taken aback, more by her tone than by her words, Harm raised his brows and said, "Oh?"

Mattie looked at him and then at Mac in what could only be described as a challenging manner, "Yeah. Jen."

"Jennifer Coates?" He asked for confirmation.

"Yeah, Jen Coates. There is no way I'm going for surgery unless Jen's there too!"

Mac and Harm exchanged looks. "Honey," Harm began, only to be interrupted by a slightly red-faced Mattie.

"Harm, I'm sorry, but this is not negotiable!"

"Hey, power down, Mats. OK, this is obviously very important to you, but why do you want Jen there so much?"

Mattie scowled, "It's not so much that I want her there, Harm. I need her there. She's got to be there. When I was in Blacksburg, just after the crash, I know you were there practically all the time, and I know Mac would have been there if she could, but she was on some dumb JAG conference here in SD at the time. So it was Jen that shared the watch over Mattie duties with you, and when I first opened my eyes it was Jen who was there at my bedside; I can still hear her voice, I can still hear exactly what she said, the tone of her voice... everything. Since then, she's been with me every step of the way, every time I've had a consult Jen was there, every time there's been a change Jen was there, when I first started using my arms Jen was there, when I first started getting about on crutches Jen was there, when I had that last scan Jen was there. She's my good luck person, Harm. I need her to be there. If she's not there, then I'm scared something might go wrong..."

By the time she had finished her litany of "Jen was there", Mattie eyes were swimming and her voice was on the edge of breaking. But she stayed, sitting on the edge of the couch and twisting the sleeve-ends of her sweater in her hands.

Trish's soft, "Oh, my," also quavered on the edge of tears, while Harm and Mac stared first at Mattie and then at each other in horror-struck guilt.

Mac was the first to react, she stretched out her arm to grasp Mattie's shoulder and draw her into her hug, but she acted only a split second before Harm, who slipped off his chair on to his knees and spread his arms around both his wife and the prickly teenage girl who had become his daughter. "Oh Mats, I'm so, so sorry. You are so right; we haven't been there for you when we should have been. I guess it was so easy, just to let Jen do all the running around for you, while we..."

"No!" A furious Mattie wriggled free and hitched her way further along the couch to give herself some room between her parents and herself. "No, it's not that Mac, Harm. I'm not blaming you! You aren't allowed to blame yourselves either! You have neither of you got anything to be sorry about. Harm, when we first came here from Virginia, you had a hell of lot to do, settling me in, then setting up a whole new career, passing a new State Bar exam, and then it wasn't your fault that the damn' Feds decided to lock you away in DC for two months! And Mac, in some ways it was even tougher for you! You didn't know me like Harm did, you had a whole new system and office to set up, and then there was all my stroppy shit..."

"Mattie Grace!" A thunderstruck Harm interrupted.

Mattie looked embarrassed at her slip, but gulped and continued, "Sorry. And then you weren't well, either, so I went to stay with Jen for a while to try and make things easier for you... so it was only kind of natural that Jan and I got close again. I mean, when we shared that apartment in DC, it was like you were my dad and Jen was my... was my sister!" Mattie finished hurriedly seeing a look of pain flash across Mac's face. "So, I grew to depend on her for... for all sorts of things... that I couldn't ask you for Harm, and things that I didn't know you well enough to ask you for Mac..."

Mac felt her colour rising, she remembered all too well, at the time that Mattie was talking about, the parlous state of affairs that had existed between Harm and her. They had barely been on speaking terms most of the time, and it was no wonder that the sensitive young girl had picked up on their confused feelings and had been hesitant in approaching her.

But Mattie hadn't yet finished, "So, I got to know Jen pretty well... she was probably the first grown-up friend I'd ever had, probably the first real girl friend I'd ever had, so when I needed her, she was there, and now I need her to be with me again, for at least this one more time."

Harm was still on his knees facing Mattie, his right arm around Mac's waist and his left hand resting on her thigh as she sat on the couch, half-turned toward Mattie, he turned toward Mac and said, "Then I guess, you'll have beg Meg to spare Jen for tomorrow."

Mac grinned and said, "You can count on it, sailor."

Harm took his hand in hers and responded, "Hey, marine, don't make promises you can't keep!"

"I haven't yet," she smiled as he raised her hand to his lips.

The look they exchanged was so laden with meaning that Trish and Mattie exchanged a look of their own, aware that something special had been said but totally clueless as to exactly what that might have been. But before either could say anything, Mac had used her free hand to tilt Harm's face up towards her, and bending over him and had kissed him gently. For the few seconds the kiss lasted there was something almost tangible in the room with them and the look of love between them was sufficient to prevent even Mattie's almost ritual exclamation of disgust.

Turning towards her again, Harm said, "Well, then, that's settled. When Mac comes home tomorrow, Jen'll be with her, and we'll all go to the MedCen with you Mats!"

Mattie smiled and nodded her thanks as he continued, "But the downside for the procedure is that you get nothing by mouth from twenty-hundred hours this evening, so I'm going to delay dinner until eighteen-thirty-hours... and," he added with magnanimity and heavy emphasis, "the choice of the menu is yours..."

Mattie cocked her head alertly, "And why," she asked, with more than just a grain of suspicion, "just exactly is that?"

"Oh, tradition," Mac interjected, and in response to Mattie's still-blank expression, "Didn't you know? The condemned man - or woman - always gets to choose his or her last meal!"

For a few seconds there was a shocked silence as Mac's words fell on their on their ears, After their separate briefings by Tony Cameron all four were aware that that there was always a risk when a general anaesthetic was involved in a surgical procedure, and Mac went fire-engine red, but before she could even start to apologise, the silence was broken by a snort of amusement from Mattie, which was followed by a burst of snickering from the same source and then by a most un-grandmotherly burst of giggles from Trish and within seconds the somewhat emotional atmosphere in the family room had dissolved into gales of laughter.

Through her tears of laughter, Mattie managed to make her choice known, "Pizza!" She declared unequivocally, but in deference to Harm's preferences, qualified her choice, "Tutti del frutti del Mare!"

x-x-x-x-x

Jen forced her body upright and then rolled her shoulders to loosen muscles that had been kept in more or less one position while she had been typing. Rising to her feet she walked around the end of her desk and rapped on the CO's doorjamb and waited for permission to enter, permission been given she marched up to Meg's desk and halted, "Ma'am, if there's nothing further for me, I'll secure for the day."

Meg looked at her watch, "Good God! Legalman, do you know what time it is?"

"Uh, yes, ma'am, eighteen-forty hours!

"Yes! Oh, God, he's going to kill me!" Meg's face took on an almost comical expression of dismay.

"Ma'am?"

"I'm supposed to be ready for dinner in twenty minutes, with my husband! He's flying back to DC tomorrow, and we were - oh never mind. Yes, go ahead and secure, and I'll see you tomorrow, Coates..."

"Ma'am," Jen suggested tentatively, "uh, you still don't have a car do you?"

"No... why? Oh, no, Coates, I can't ask you..."

"You're not asking, ma'am, I'm offering, it's only a couple of minutes in the car, but it'll save you a fifteen minute walk. I'll just secure my work station and I'll see you downstairs in five, ma'am."

Meg searched Jen's face, looking for any signs of an ulterior motive, but could see only a desire to help and to be neighbourly as they phrased it back home to Texas. She smiled, "Very well, then. Thank you Coates!"

True to Jen's predictions, it took less than five minutes to cross the base to VOQ where Meg still had a cabin, giving her some hope that she wouldn't be too outrageously late for her hot date with Andy, and with a hurried, "Thanks again, Coates!" Meg fled to her quarters, her shower and the red dress hanging on a padded hangar in her sleeping berth.

Jen smiled as she turned the Escort's nose back towards the main gate. What is it, she asked herself, about command appointments that makes perfectly level-headed people lose all sense of time? Especially when someone was so obviously in love! After all, the health gurus had for years been hammering on about reaching a healthy work versus life balance! Of course, it might help if a girl had something to do, and someone to do it with it, other than just eat, run work and sleep! That train of thought led inevitably to a tall, lean, loose-limbed, darkly tanned and pale-eyed figure. Miles ought to be back in town soon, but after she had so summarily rejected his invitation she wondered if he would bother even talking to her again.

Meg silently thanked the unknown genius who had invented shower caps; at least she wouldn't have to worry about trying to dry her hair! One of the advantages, she mused as she twisted and turned under the hot, stinging needles of water from the shower head, of living in a dry climate. She could almost guarantee that if this had been in DC, and she'd had the time to prepare properly, that by the time she'd got her hair just so, it would be pouring with rain outside!

Andy was already dressed and was sat in one of the uncomfortable bedroom chairs waiting for her to finish getting ready. He hadn't said anything as she'd burst into their temporary quarters like a Texas Twister, but his oh, so carefully impassive face almost guaranteed that she would have to pay a heavy price for nearly forgetting their date. Oh, she had no doubt that he had already forgiven her, but he was going to tease her unmercifully for her lapse. She smiled as she stepped out of the shower and towelled herself off, she had a feeling about tonight; a feeling that had its beginnings in a few tremors, right at the base of her stomach, and set her quivering with anticipation. She knew that the dress she had selected for tonight was one that Andy loved seeing her in... It was almost the same sort of dress, in the same vibrant shade of red, that Harmon Rabb had teased her about all those years ago in DC.

It was only a fifteen minutes late Meg who emerged from the bedroom and gave a pirouette for the benefit of her husband, allowing the skirt of the red dress to flare to above her knees and giving her husband a good look at the long, smooth lines of her legs. Andy McLellan smiled appreciatively at the show she was putting on, and while acknowledging that this was one of her ways for apologising for being late, he was not about to let her off the hook. She had stopped twirling and was looking across at him with those beautiful blue eyes that held just a hint, maybe, of mischief and promise.

"Nope. It's not working." He told her sternly.

She walked across the few feet of carpet that separated them and placing her hands on his shoulders with her elbows against his chest looked him straight in the eye and softly said, "Liar", before she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips.

Andy McLellan groaned; a sound Meg felt through her forearms rather than heard. "If you don't stop that, Meg Austin, then all the time we've spent in getting ready to go out will be wasted. And even worse, if we don't get to Nikolai's in time to meet our reservation, then they'll probably blacklist us for the rest of our lives!"

Meg looked in wonder at her husband, "We're going to Nikolai's?"

"Yes, we are."

"We're really going to eat at Nikolai's?"

"Yes." Andy couldn't help but smile at the disbelief in Meg's voice. She was normally so much together, that he loved to spring little surprises on her from time to time.

"We have reservations, dinner reservations at Nikolai's?"

"Yes."

"Oh, God, you smooth-talking Limey, I don't know how you managed that - and thinking about it, I don't want to know how you managed that, but... if we have reservations at Nikolai's, what the hell are we doing standing around here?" And with a crow of delighted laughter, Meg picked up her purse and wrap and opening the door almost drove her chuckling husband out into the evening air.

x-x-x-x-x

Linda Graham wandered slowly through the house; it wasn't quite yet time for dinner so Robert would probably be in the kitchen helping mom get everything set. Linda should have been in her bedroom finishing her homework math assignment; instead she had spent the last twenty-some minutes talking to an almost incoherently excited Mattie Grace. It had been the best news that Mattie was finally going to have a doctor do something about her back and get her fit and well and off her sticks and crutches and permanently out of her wheelchair, but there had been something else, too. Mattie had sounded just a little bit ambivalent, and when challenged had muttered something about the procedure making it difficult to carry out plan A. Mattie had been most cagey about whatever plan A was, but from clues she'd let slip and Linda's own knowledge of her situation she'd gathered that it had something to do with a secret, and very important date with Stacey Cavendish, but that Mattie couldn't meet with him now because she'd still be in hospital.

Linda wasn't, as she was the first to admit, exactly the sharpest knife in the box but she wasn't a total dumbass either. And although she'd defended Mattie's love affair with Stacey to Robert in previous discussions, there had been something he'd said last time that had made her stop and think. If Robert, the most gentle and unaggressive of brothers, had said that he'd punch out Stacey if he'd been acting towards Linda as he had toward Mattie then perhaps there _was_ something weird about the whole thing. And although she'd agreed with Mattie that it was sooo much more exciting to have an older lover than the dumb boys at school, the thought of actually kissing somebody so much older was just so gross, and even thinking of Mattie kissing somebody so much older was just... yucky! She wished she knew Mattie's friend, Jennifer, better then she'd be able to walk around the corner to Cape May Avenue. She stopped on the spot. OK, so she didn't Jennifer that well, but that shouldn't stop her from dropping Jennifer a hint, no, the he... oops! The heck with that! Hints weren't what were needed now, she'd have to come right out and... and say what she thought! Getting to Cape May Avenue might be a problem though. There was no way that mom would let her walk round there on her own after dinner, and it would have to be tonight and she couldn't just slip out now. If she missed dinner, not only would mom be madder than a wet hen but it would lead to all sorts of awkward questions that she could, but wouldn't want to answer, well, not to mom anyway. Not to mom. That was the key. Maybe she could persuade Robert to go for an after dinner walk, just for half an hour so. The decision made, she drew a deep breath, and curling up in a window seat with the latest edition of Miss Vogue magazine and waited for the summons to dinner.

Family dinner at the Graham's wasn't a hugely formal thing, although Mrs Graham insisted on a modicum of decorum to accompany the somewhat unimaginative, but well prepared and well cooked meals she provided, and looked upon them as a chance to catch up on her little family's daily doings. This evening she was well content with her recovering invalid. He had called his uncle and had arranged to start work in the downtown office starting next Monday - oh, that was only a week away! Her eyes prickled with sudden tears, he couldn't possibly be strong enough to start work yet, but he was so like his father, such a sense of duty and so, so stubborn, that she was afraid that standing out against him on this would lead to a relapse! Linda, though was going through an especially awkward phase today, she'd pushed more food around her plate than she'd eaten, and trying to get more than two words in a row out of her had been impossible, so when at the end of dinner Linda turned to her brother and asked diffidently, "Robert, when we've helped mom clear away, would you like to go for a walk, just for half an hour or so?" Alice had enthusiastically seconded the idea.

"Yes, go for a stroll with your sister, Robert. It'll help build your strength back up for when you start work next week!" and she beamed fondly at her children. Poor Linda must have thought she was being artful, but it was now clear to Alice Graham that whatever Linda had on her mind, she wanted to discuss with her brother before, or instead of talking it through with her mother. That meant, Alice was convinced, that it was a boy/girl thing and that Linda wanted to get a male insight into whatever the problem was! These youngsters, she thought, had somehow come to the conclusion that they were the first - if not the only - generation that had ever played the dating game! How on earth did they think they had gotten here if their parents and their parents before them hadn't been playing exactly the same games!

Robert regarded mother and sister with a measure of doubt mixed with a tinge of apprehension, all of a sudden he'd gotten the feeling that the womenfolk of his family were ganging up on him, but his mom's beaming smile and the plea so plainly evident in his sister's eyes were hard to deny, especially when his sister, reverting to childhood patterns kicked him gently under the table. Frowning at her adoption of ancient anti-mom tactics, he forced a non-committal smile and agreed, "Sure, why not? But not for too long, unless," he added shrewdly, "Linda's homework is finished, or includes research in the latest issue of Miss Vogue!"

Both he and Alice Graham laughingly dismissed Linda's blushing claims that yes, her homework was done, and no, that she wasn't really interested in Miss Vogue, it had just been a magazine to flick through while she was waiting for her slowcoach brother to stop messing about and carve the meat for dinner!

Dinner eaten, Robert and Linda spent half an hour on kitchen chores while Alice supervised them from the safety of her kitchen table. She was she felt, despite her earlier losses, so lucky, Robert had miraculously been restored to her and Linda had rarely given her a moment's anxiety, either for health or behaviour reasons, and the two of them obviously loved each other, they got on so well and rarely had a cross word, and she could rely on Linda to cheer Robert up when he became tired and irritable, and Robert had always been able to cajole Linda out of her occasional fits of the sullens. And now as they finished their after dinner chores she took real pleasure in their banter as Linda headed upstairs to get a wrap for herself and a jacket for Robert before they took their stroll.

Closing the front door behind them she peered through the scuttle as they made their way down the path to the street, where to her mild surprise they turned left toward Ocean Beach centre rather than right toward the beach itself, but shrugging her shoulders she supposed that they knew where they were going. In this supposition she was only partially correct.

Robert had been about to turn to his right when Linda, slipping her hand through his arm had tugged him in the opposite direction. "OK, Linnet," his use of her old childhood nickname bringing a smile of remembered pleasure to her face, "What's going on and where are we going?"

"Umm, just around the corner to Cape May Avenue," she said, looking sideways and up at him under her lashes.

"OK," he replied, covering her small hand on his arm with his larger one and squeezing gently, "that's where, but why?"

"I need... I want to talk with Jennifer Coates," she explained hesitantly.

Robert drew a deep breath, "I _know_ I'm going to regret asking this, but why do_ you_ want to speak to Jennifer?"

Linda only offered a one-word answer, "Mattie."

Robert increased the pressure on Linda's hand, and when he spoke all traces of humour had vanished from his voice, "What's wrong with Mattie? Is she alright?"

Linda having by now some inkling of the way her marvellous big brother felt about her friend really didn't want to discuss Mattie's romance with him, it would she thought be a betrayal of confidence and could only bring him pain, and thankful, in a twisted sort of way, that Mattie's upcoming surgery gave her an alternative, answered, "Oh, she's going into hospital tomorrow. It's nothing much to worry about, but if the procedure goes OK, then she'll be able to walk without help and she'll be able to play volleyball and softball and swim again."

"Linda! This is fantastic! How can you say it's no big deal?" Robert just couldn't understand why his baby sister couldn't see just how much of a big deal this was.

"Uh... perhaps I could've put that better," Linda agreed. "The doctors say that the procedure is no biggie, but yeah, you're right, if it works than of course it's fantastic! Although, that might mean that she gets to go to Annapolis after all, instead of going to USC here." As Linda completed her thoughts, she fell silent, realising perhaps for the first time that a successful outcome for Mattie might mean the beginning of the dissolution of their friendship under the constraints of time and distance.

Robert watched his sister's body language out of the corner of his eye and as her shoulders slumped and she disengaged her arm from his to wrap her arms around her stomach, he reached out with his own arm and gripping her around the shoulder pulled her into a one-armed hug. His actions rewarded by a brave half-smile.

Arriving at Cape May Avenue the two looked at the buildings lining the street, neither really having any idea of the house number. Robert was about to take his sister to task for not finding out the address before they had walked here when Linda, thinking furiously as she pieced together clues dropped in previous conversations, exclaimed, "Yes! That's it!" pointing to the one three storey building near the corner of Cape May and Abbott.

"Are you sure?" Robert asked, as he stretched his long legs in an effort to catch up with his now scurrying sister.

"Yes! Mattie said that Jennifer's apartment was on the third floor and I can't see any other three floor buildings, here!" Linda was convinced that she had remembered correctly.

Confirmation was received as they scanned the names listed against the five door buzzers, apartment #5 showing the names "Neumann and Coates."

Jen, Fran and Tim had only just finished their own dinner and the subsequent clearing up. Normal relations had been more or less resumed, aided by Fran's sunny nature and Jen's determination not to let the recent misunderstanding rankle, but the call of the buzzer made Jen stop and look suspiciously at her friends.

"Fran," she demanded in a warning tone, "have you tried to set..."

"No! Absolutely not," Fran protested, "Tim you aren't expecting anyone are you?"

"Oh, no, ladies, not me! I wouldn't invite anyone around, not without at least clearing it with you Fran. This is your place, not mine!"

Jen looked at them sternly, despite their protests, she wasn't quite convinced, but mentally shrugging, she pressed the answer button on the wall mounted intercom, "Yes?" she asked.

The young, very young, female voice that replied sounded vaguely familiar even before the speaker identified herself, "Jennifer? Hi, this is Linda Graham. Uh... I need to speak with you. About Mattie Grace..."

Jen didn't hesitate, she thumbed the door release button, and turned a puzzled face to her friends, "It's one of the girls from Mattie's school... she says she wants to speak with me about Mattie..."

The three weren't left in suspense for very long, the tap at the door alerting them to the arrival of their visitors. Jen opened the door and recognised both Linda and her brother, saying, "Come on in, please! Fran, Tim, this is Linda Graham and her brother Robert. Linda, Robert, this is Fran Neumann, my room-mate and Tim her fiancé. Take a seat everyone; can I get you a drink? A soda perhaps?"

Robert availed himself of the invitation to sit, taking possession of an armchair, while Tim took Fran on his lap, freeing up half the couch. Linda, however just stood and looking around the small apartment, turned to Jen and asked, "Look, Jen, I'm sorry to be a pain, but it's kinda personal. Is there somewhere we can talk privately, please?"

Jen looked at Linda, she was quite pale and very nervous. Whatever had prompted her to come and talk to an almost stranger about her closest friend was obviously very important to her, so nodding, she answered, "Sure, come on into my room, we can be as private as we like there. Tim and Fran can look after Robert for us!" she added with a dimple-revealing grin.

The pair disappeared into Jen's bedroom leaving Tim, Fran and Robert in an uncomfortable silence. Tim jerked his head in the direction of the closed bedroom door and asked, "Any idea what that's all about?"

Robert shook his head glumly, "Nope, haven't got a clue."

Tim grunted and thought for a few seconds, "Beer do you any good?"

Robert looked at the other man, grinned and said, "Yep, thanks!"


	26. 23 October 2007 am

**26**

**Tuesday 23 October 2007**

Jen returned from her morning run, and although she had been considering what she ought to do, she was still undecided what to do about Mattie. As she stepped into the shower, she reflected that while Linda Graham hadn't really been able to tell her anything concrete, she had been convinced, that she had a 'weird feeling' that maybe Mattie was going to do something really, really stupid.

All Jen's training as a Legalman told her that Linda's suspicions were totally inadmissible, and that before Jen could take any action she needed to find some kind of proof, but Linda was Mattie's best friend, and if there was something going on under the surface, then Linda would be the one to know about it, or at least guess that something squirly was happening.

Jen finished her shower and sat in front of her dressing table running the hair-dryer over her head and pulling her hairbrush through her hair with long, smooth strokes. The Colonel was due back today, so maybe Jen could find the chance to have a quick word, and put Mac on the _qui vive_. Decision made, she nodded decisively, and her hair now dry to her satisfaction, she started to twist it into her favoured style of French Braid.

Fifteen minutes later and with her first cup of coffee and a cream cheese bagel consumed for breakfast, Jen adjusted her cover and exchanged a cheery good morning with a grumpy early morning Fran, who had just surfaced, before heading out the door and downstairs to her car.

x-x-x-x-x

Harm looked at his reflection in the full length mirror in the lobby. It felt strange to be back in uniform, strange but good, and somehow right and comforting, except for one thing that didn't feel quite right. He studied his reflection and as he looked his eyes were caught by the gold wings sitting above the triple row of medal ribbons, and his hand went slowly towards them, searching for the clips that would let the wings fall free from his chest.

"Don't do that flyboy." He looked over his shoulder to see Mac standing at the foot of the stairs, one hand resting on the newel post.

"I'm not a flyboy anymore, Mac," he sighed, "wearing them makes me feel I'm a fraud."

She stepped toward him, put her arm around his waist and leaned against his shoulder, looking at his eyes in the mirror. "That's silly," she said uncompromisingly, "just because you're not boring holes in the sky anymore..." he grinned at her ever-so-slightly mocking of his age-old complaint at lack of action, "it doesn't mean that you're not still entitled to wear them. After all, A J still wore his trident, and he hadn't been an active SEAL for, what...? twenty years?"

"H'mm, true enough, Harm agreed, "but..."

"But, nothing. I also have a sneaky feeling that unless your wings have been officially pulled, then if you don't wear them, then you're out of uniform. Check the dress regs, squid."

"Yeah, but nobody said anything when I didn't wear them at JAG, when I first changed designator..."

"Yeah, but nobody at JAG actually knew you were a jet-jockey, did they? Well, not until Mace told everybody on the Seahawk! It's a mite different here and now," Mac's voice still held a lightly mocking note, but there was an underlying note of seriousness, "You're famous, everyone knows you're a pilot, look, Silver Star, DFCs... Harm, you're an aviation hero..."

"No, don't call me that, Mac; you know I'm not a hero..."

"You're my hero," she told him lovingly, but with a mischievous grin on her face.

Harm ploughed on, determined "I have never pretended to be a hero; I just happened to be there to do whatever needed to be done at the time."

Mac's expression grew sombre, "Yes, you did, and most of the time you scared the crap out of me, but the thing is, you never seemed to take the risks into consideration, you just went ahead and you did 'whatever needed to be done at the time'," she said, throwing his own words back at him.

"Yeah, I'm sorry for that, for scaring you. But you did some pretty crazy stuff too, marine."

"Like what?" Mac challenged him.

"Well, taking command of an embassy under siege, and making a fighting withdrawal through an angry mob... or going _mano a mano_ with Al Quaeda fighters in a PW compound, or..."

"OK, OK, I get it sailor! You can stop being overprotective now. Those days are long gone. Now I have a nice safe, soft job, sitting behind a desk in sunny SoCal, and far more importantly, incubating the next generation of Rabbs - and this better be a girl in here, I don't think I could face having two Rabb men in my life!"

Harm turned to face Mac, "Do you miss any of it, the excitement, the challenge?"

"Do I miss the flies in the food, the sand in the water, the ever-present grit in my hair, extricating you from minefields, trying to sleep in the open, without a sleeping bag and while our own planes are dropping bombs on our heads? Do I miss the constant crash, bang of a catapult two decks up, or the howl of F-14 engines, or the stink of jet fuel? Hell, yeah, I miss it... sometimes. But now I've got you, and Mattie, and I'm a little bit older and a little bit wiser, and if I still haven't gotten used to your meatless meatloaf, I've gotten used to sleeping in a proper bed. It's a fair trade I reckon."

"And you're happy with that?"

"As long as I've got you, sailor."

"Uh-huh. Well, I guess I'll just have to settle for that then. Come on jarhead, we got us some reporting in to do!"

x-x-x-x-x

Lieutenant Annette Walker sat on the side of her bath-tub, look at the little plastic stick in her hand. In the little window at one end of the stick there were two pink lines. Two pink lines! How the hell did that happen? Oh, yeah, right, she knew how the biological stuff happened, but how did this happen? Let alone she was on an oral contraceptive, she and Jason had always been so very careful about using condoms. She was on the verge of panic; sure she wanted kids, someday, but now? It couldn't have happened at a worse time. She and Jason hadn't been dating for long; their relationship - if it was one - was not ready for this. Thank God there were alternatives, she could take a personal afternoon, see her OB/Gyn, get it confirmed and then there were clinics these days, especially here in California, which could take care of her little problem with a simple out-patient procedure, and she'd never even have to tell him. Who the hell was she trying to kid. She could never do that. And there was no way that she couldn't tell him. She gulped, she'd have to tell him, and there was no time like the present. In an uncharacteristic move, she wrapped her bathrobe tightly around her and walked into the bedroom, where Jason was lounging on the bed and trying to make sense of a witness statement.

"Ummm, Jason, what were you figuring on doing this evening?"

The note of hesitation in Annette's voice was enough for him to close the file and look at her with more than usual attention, "Nothing much, I thought I'd just kick back with my favourite lieutenant, maybe grab a couple of beers, or share a bottle of wine with her...why, did you want to do something special?" he added as she bit her lip.

"Uh... how would you feel about going to the doctor with me?"

Jason jumped to his feet, "Annette, are you ill?" His voice, face and body language all expressed his sudden anxiety.

"I don't think so... but, I think I do need a check-up." She couldn't quite meet his eyes.

Now even more concerned, Jason closed the distance between them and grasping her gently by the shoulder, he pushed her chin up and around until he could see into her eyes, "Annette, sweetheart, tell me, what's wrong?"

Annette took a deep breath, and almost fearful of his reaction whispered, "Jason, I think we might need to take a rain check on beer and wine for a while, I think I'm pregnant."

Jason felt his heart swell, but carefully schooling his face into an emotionless mask, he asked "How do you feel about that?"

Annette sat on the edge of the bed and shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know. I always wanted kids, but I hadn't figured on having any before I got married, and I hadn't figured on having one just yet. I guess... I'm kinds mixed up..."

Jason looped and arm around her shoulder as he sat next to her and drew her in so that her head rested in the hollow of his shoulder. "Would it help," he asked, "if I said I was thrilled and delighted?"

Annette looked up at him, "Really?"

"Yes... yes, I am," His face broke into a huge grin, "I really am!"

Annette smiled weakly in acknowledgement of his enthusiasm and pleasure and then sat in silence for a minute before she asked, "What are we going to do, Jason?"

"Realistically, what are our options?"

"First, I'm having it! There's no question about that, never!"

"OK. That's good. Then I'm here for you both, for as long as you need me and want me. But afterwards?"

"I don't know... I haven't thought that far ahead yet... And besides, it isn't even definite yet. "

"Maybe not, but those home-tests", he indicated the plastic stick clutched in her hand, "are supposed to be pretty damn' accurate these days aren't they?"

"I guess," she agreed.

"Uh-huh. So... if the test is positive, we're going to have to figure out what we want to do, right?"

"Yeah."

"So... perhaps we'd better start thinking, then?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Jason squeezed her a little tighter and said, "It'll be alright, Annette, we'll get through this, the same way we got into it... Together."

x-x-x-x-x

Mattie sat on the edge of her bed. Her go-bag was packed, pyjamas, I-pod, a couple of paperback books, toiletries, yep, all there, already checked, but going over the list one more time wouldn't hurt, besides, it would help keep her mind occupied, and help stop her worrying. She shouldn't worry, she knew she'd be alright, she told herself. Tony was a good doctor, one of top-rated young neuro-surgeons in the country, according to the internet, so there was nothing to be nervous about, but if she had no reason to be nervous, why had she felt like throwing up all this morning?

Mac and Harm had both stopped by her room as she was packing this morning to let her know they were on their way to work, and to reassure her that they would be back by eleven-thirty hours, and although they had been encouraging, she still couldn't help feeling a cold knot in the pit of her stomach. A soft knock on her bedroom door distracted her from her thoughts, and in response to her "It's open", Trish entered the room, and seeing the way in which Mattie was twisting the cuffs of her sweater, she smiled, sat down next to her, and took her into her arms, Mattie let her head fall on Trish's breast and before she was really aware of what was happening, found herself crying softly.

"Oh, Mattie, darling, it's alright, let it out," Trish encouraged her, rocking the teenager gently back and forth.

"Oh, this is so dumb!" Mattie sniffed angrily, making an unsuccessful attempt to pull free of Trish's hug.

"No, no it's not dumb, Mattie. You're scared, it's only natural."

"I am not scared!" Mattie denied furiously.

"Oh, well, if you say you're not, then of course you're not, darling!" Trish endorsed Mattie's statement, but in such a way that Mattie did pull back and stare at her suspiciously for a few seconds, but seeing nothing but sincerity in Trish's face, allowed Trish to pull her closer again.

"I'm not scared, really," Mattie mumbled, "I'm just a little bit nervous."

"Uh-huh," Trish continued rocking her gently, "have you told Harmon or Sarah, about the way you feel?"

"No... I was fine until a few minutes ago, and then, it just kinds jumped up and got in my face, and anyway, I didn't want them to worry about me."

"Oh, darling, we're your family, it's our job to worry about you, you silly child!"

Instead of taking offence at Trish's scold and at being called a silly child, Mattie gave a watery giggle, but then said, "Yeah, maybe, but they've got enough to worry about. They've been fighting - and that does scare me, and Mac's not having a good time with the baby, is she? - And that scares me. I can't dump anything else on them right now, it wouldn't be right. But Trish, I really hate hospitals! I've had to spend too long in them already!"

Trish felt a surprising burst of anger. She knew from her own experience that Harm could be obliviously insensitive to others, and Mac had a lot to cope with, as Mattie had just pointed out, but there was no need for them to be so selfishly... selfish, dammit! They needed to be more aware of more than just their own concerns. And if they couldn't see that Mattie was terrified, then they would damn' well be told! And she was just the gal to tell them!

x-x-x-x-x

It hadn't been a bad drive in to work this morning Jen told herself as she stowed her cover and powered up her computer. Glancing at her watch she found she had five minutes to spare and once again nodding her head as if to confirm her decision headed across the bull-pen towards the galley and the coffee machine, exchanging morning greetings with other early arrivals as she did so. Entering the galley, she was taken aback to find Commander McLellan already there, and helping herself to coffee and a doughnut.

"Good morning, ma'am!" Jen greeted her, stiffening to a brace.

Meg smiled at the Yeoman, "Good, morning Coates, at ease," and pouring a second mug of coffee turned to Jen and said, "Creamer with no sugar, that's right isn't it?"

"Uh... yes, ma'am. Thank you ma'am!" Jen looked across the rim of her mug at her acting CO, Commander McLellan generally had a smile lurking about her eyes, but she seemed to be in a particularly good humour this morning, and then the penny dropped, "If it's not too personal a question ma'am, I take it you had a good time on your date?"

Meg looked at Jen, was she really that transparent? she asked herself. "Yes, thank you, Coates, we had a fabulous time! We had dinner at Nikolai's and then we went dancing until the small hours. Coates, no matter how long you're in a relationship, or a marriage, never let it become routine, a little romance here and there helps get you through so much."

Jen was startled, and felt her ears go pink, this was far more information than she'd asked for, "Yes, ma'am... uh... no, ma'am."

Meg laughed gently at the expression on Jen's face, "It's alright Coates. The Colonel's flying back to DC today, and he always likes to mark his departures with a little something special before he leaves. Now, walk with me, and let's see what we can get done this morning!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am!"

Commander and Legalman were still making their way around the edge of the bull-pen when a cry of "Attention! Captain on deck!" brought all activity in the bull-pen to a halt. Looking across to the hallway leading from the elevators all eyes were on the figures of Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie-Rabb and Captain Rabb, who had no sooner heard the call than he ordered "Carry on!"

Jen slipped behind her desk as Meg greeted the two senior officers and walked through to the CO's office, Jen stood as they passed her desk and said, "Good morning, sir, good morning ma'am. It's good to see you back. Can I get you a coffee or a pot of tea?"

Mac stopped for a second to reply, "No, no thank you, Coates, but I'll need to speak with you as soon as I've briefed Commander McLellan, so please don't go wandering off."

"Aye, aye, ma'am." Jen sat down as the office door closed, that didn't sound good she thought, and frantically searched her memory for any sins of commission or omission of which she might be guilty, and thankfully came up with a blank. But still, it was not like the Colonel to make such a point of Jen keeping herself available in such a fashion. It might be all to the good though, she might find the opportunity of hinting to the Colonel what Linda Graham had told her last night.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the office door opened and Harm came through it, saying cheerfully over his shoulder, "I'll be back to pick you up at eleven then, Mac," and seeing Jen starting to rise to her feet, he waved her off, saying, "Relax, Coates. Just be ready to secure at eleven-hundred."

"Sir...?" Jen asked her surprise evident in her voice.

"It's OK, Coates, Mac will explain."

Oh, good, Jen thought weakly, because somebody needs to. With Harm now being back in the Navy, she had to call him 'sir', again. Just when she was beginning to get into the habit of calling him by his first name, while the Colonel was still the Colonel, and ma'am, but the Captain was calling her Mac when he talked to Jen; life was really beginning to get confusing. It was far simpler, she reflected when there hadn't been any first names involved at all. It would have been better if she hadn't, through Mattie, gotten involved in the Captain's life at all, and then through him, so closely involved with the whole MacKenzie-Rabb-Grace... thing!

Her mixed feelings were almost instantly resolved as the inter-phone on her desk buzzed and Mac's voice asked her to come into the office. Mac was seated behind her desk while Meg McLellan occupied one of the wing-chairs, Mac waited until Jen had come to attention in front of the desk, "Legalman Coates, reporting as ordered, ma'am!"

"At ease, sit down please, Coates." Mac began, "I've just been telling Commander McLellan that I'm only here on a flying visit today and that when I leave, I shall be taking you with me." Seeing the confusion crossing Jen's face, Mac smiled and said, "It's alright, Coates, it's good news; Mattie's procedure is scheduled for this afternoon, and not only does she insist that you're there - did you know she considers you to be her good luck charm? - but if it hadn't been for you, she never would have met Tony Cameron, and none of this would be happening. Coates, you've been with Mattie every step of the way, right from when you had to tell the Captain that she'd been injured. It's only fitting that you stay with her, with us, until the end. So, I've told Commander McLellan that you'll be out for the rest of the day, but that you can brief Yates to take over your desk again."

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Alright, then, Coates, get hold of Yates and carry on!"

Jen rose to her feet and braced to attention, "Aye, aye, ma'am."

The two officers watched her leave and close the door behind her. Mac turned her gaze to Meg and reading concern on the blonde officer's face, she said "You disapprove, don't you?"

"Speaking freely? Yes, I do. I don't think it's very fair of you to involve your Yeoman in your family's life, you're making all sorts of conflicting demands on her."

Mac then surprised Meg by saying, "Yes. I agree. Or I would if the circumstances were any different. But Jennifer Coates is more my husband's protégée than she is mine. Oh, there's nothing untoward or clandestine about their relationship, I've been a witness to it from the first day they met. When Harm first took guardianship of Mattie, it was before we were married, and he needed help with looking after her. He lived in a single bed-room apartment, quite impossible for Mattie to share - she was just fifteen at the time - so he took the neighbouring apartment as well, but he couldn't have Mattie living there on her own whenever he was out of town. I'm sure you remember what JAGMan investigations could be like?" Meg nodded her agreement. "So, at just about that time Jennifer was having roomie problems, and as she was already working as Admiral Chegwidden's Yeoman, Harm offered her the opportunity to solve both their problems by moving in with Mattie. As a result she became very close to Mattie, a cross between a big sister and a mom, until Mattie went back to her real father, and then Jennifer moved out of their old apartment. Then when most of us were out of town on the JAG conference, Harm was acting JAG in Falls Church, and Jennifer had to field a telephone call saying that Mattie had been involved in an air accident and was critically injured. Harm nearly lost his mind with worry. Mattie was in a coma for weeks, and when she did come round she was paralysed from the neck downwards. Jennifer was the only one around at the time who could break down Harm's walls. I really believe she saved his sanity, and her connection with Mattie has over the last eighteen months done so much to help in Mattie's rehab. And that's not counting all she has done for me personally. Her bullying me and nagging me is very likely a contributing factor to my still being pregnant. So, you see Meg, in some ways Jen Coates is very much a part of our family. We need her, and I like to think that she needs us, well, perhaps not me so much, but definitely Mattie and maybe Harm, too."

Meg nodded her understanding. She could see why Mac and Harm thought so highly of Jennifer Coates, the person, and she had over the last week seen plenty of evidence as to why Jennifer Coates the Yeoman was so highly thought of, but she was still uneasy at the way in which personal and professional lines had become blurred in this case.

x-x-x-x-x

Mac sat back in her chair and stretched her back muscles, at the same time running a thumb around the inside of her waistband. She and Meg McLellan had been going through the current case-load, status reports and personnel report for just about two hours, and she found that the waistband of her skirt was beginning to rub against her skin.

Meg looked up at Mac's movement and smiled, "Might I suggest a three inch elastic band, Mac?"

"Huh? I mean... well," Mac grinned, "I suppose I do mean 'huh?'"

"It's a tip I got from a British officer a while ago. I asked her how she managed to stay in her regular uniform for so long during her pregnancy. She told me that she'd looped an elastic band through the button-hole on the skirt, and then hooked the other end of the band around the button. The band stretches and relaxes with movement and growth, and she reckoned it gave her an extra six weeks before she had to go into maternity outfits!"

Mac looked wonderingly at Meg, "How come I never thought of that?"

Meg grinned again, and in an excruciating Oxford accent drawled, "Yah, demmed cunning these natives, what?"

"Yeah, I guess. Now, let's get back to it, huh? What's BUPERS up to with our replacement AO?"

"Mac, I have spent hours on the horn with those... those... people! Every time I call, I get different person, and it seems that none of them make any records of any calls, because every damn time I have to start again from the beginning. I've half a mind to ask you to TAD me back to Falls Church so I can get to the fumble farm and start banging some BUPERS heads together!"

"It's an appealing thought, I admit, but I can't let you do it. I'd be the first in line to defend you from any charges, but if I gave you TAD or leave to visit our wrath on BUPERS, they'd probably rope me in as an accessory before the fact! Alright," she sighed, "leave it with me, and I'll get on to it tomorrow!"

Meg nodded her head in acknowledgement of Mac's support, "That brings me on to a related matter. Petty Officer Yeoman Third Class Rebecca Williams..."

Mac had to search her memory, before the mental image of the very young and very scared Yeoman came to mind. "Yes, I remember her... just. What about her?"

"She reported back yesterday, and as she was supposed to be working for our AO, I've assigned her to Lieutenant Graves, but I'm not happy about her psychological state. She has major anger issues with the Navy, and she seems to be worried sick about her husband."

"Yes... he lost an arm at Falls Church, didn't he?"

"Yes. But she seems to have lost something too. Coates drew my attention to it. Williams seems to be almost... transparent. I know that sounds weird, but it's the only single word I can think of that fits her. She seems to have lost all pride in her presentation and her uniform yesterday only just passed muster, while her personal grooming left a lot to be desired. I know she's been through a lot and she's no more than a girl, but maybe the soft approach is wrong in this case. In don't know, Mac, but if you weren't coming back I'd have sent her for a psych eval, and if she was robust enough I'd give her a refresher touch of boot camp, just to remind her that she's still in the navy."

"Tough love, Meg?"

Meg looked a little startled for a moment before she nodded and said, "Yeah, I suppose it is in a way."

x-x-x-x-x

Harm presented his ID and a copy of his orders to the Chief Petty Officer Master at Arms, who scrutinised them carefully and then checked Harm's details against his log of officers expected to report in on assignment. "I don't see your name here, sir," he eventually said, "and since the threat level is still high... I need to verify these orders."

Harm swore silently, under his breath, "That's OK, Chief, try Commander Watie, and tell him if he doesn't vouch for me, I'm going to tell Annie about a certain little trattoria in Naples."

The Chief grinned, "I'll call Commander Watie's office, sir. But if you don't mind I'll try and stay out of the firing line in any fuss you two might have over doings in Naples!"

"Thanks Chief!" Harm stood back to let the Chief make his call, and as he replaced the phone Harm raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"Jiminez!" The Chief called, not quite shouting, but in a voice that was designed to carry.

"Yes, Chief!" Jiminez was a Petty Officer MAA Second Class, and apart from his slightly darker colouring looked like a twenty years younger version of the Chief.

"Jiminez, walk Captain Rabb up to Commander Watie's office. Once you've shown him where it is get your butt back down here without goofing off or stopping to flirt with the Commander's Admin Assistant! Got it?"

"Got it, Chief! Captain, sir, if you'll follow me, please?"

Harm followed the master at Arms across the lobby to reach of a bank of elevators, where pressing the call button he stood to one side to allow harm to enter the car first. The elevator slid to a smooth stop and the doors whooshed open, and once again Jiminez stepped off in the lead. Harm noted that the hallway was carpeted rather than being polished tiles, and raised an inward eyebrow as he reflected on the luxury that surrounded Admirals and insulated them from the cares that beset lesser mortals. His musing were brought an abrupt halt when Jiminez stopped and indicated a door to the right, "Commander Watie's Offices, Sir!"

"Thank you, Master at Arms," Harm replied, "Dismissed."

Jiminez drew himself to a brace and responded "Aye, aye, sir."

Harm tapped gently on the door, and opened it to find himself in a reasonably sized office, again with carpet underfoot. A bank of filing cabinets lined one wall, while between himself and the window at the far end of the room a was a desk behind which sat a startlingly attractive brunette in her early thirties wearing the uniform of a Petty Officer Yeoman First Class. She rose to her feet as he entered and came to attention, allowing him to guess her height at five-nine or maybe five-ten, and she half-smiled in welcome as she said, "Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, Yeoman, carry on please." He waited until she had sat down again before he continued, "I'm Captain Rabb, and would like to have a few minutes of Commander Watie's time, if possible."

"Yes, sir. One moment please. She pushed a button on the complex looking desk-top telephone exchange and said, "Sir, a Captain Rabb has arrived and would like to speak with you."

"Rabb? Send him in, please, Alison!"

The Yeoman, stood and came around from behind her desk, and tapping on a door in the left hand wall, she opened it and said to Harm, "Go straight in, please, sir."

Harm smiled in acknowledgement and walked into Tom Watie's office, to be greeted by a cry of "Hammer! Oh, I'm sorry, that should be 'Captain Hammer', shouldn't it!"

"Hello, Cherokee," Harm grinned at as the office's occupant crossed the carpet, his high cheekbones and slightly darker skin betraying the Native American ancestry that gave him his call sign.

The two old friends gripped hands, and Tom asked, "What are you doing here today, sir? I thought we'd arranged leave for you until tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but Mac," and seeing Tom's incomprehension, Harm explained, "Mac - my wife, Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie-Rabb - she's in today, so I thought I'd drop by and do an unofficial recon."

"Wait a minute, I'd heard the name, but I hadn't made the connection. Your wife's the JAG CO here?"

"Well, not here exactly, but over on the South thirty-second spur."

"And you managed to swing a posting here! You lucky SOB! Annie's still up at Ventura. We can't find a buyer up there, so we can't afford anywhere down here."

"Yeah, well a posting to SoCal was one the stipulations I made to SecNav." Harm took a seat as Tom indicated he should sit, "I resigned my commission about eighteen months ago so that Mac and I could get married and stay together when she was posted here. Then we lost half a dozen JAGs when Falls Church was hit, so some of the more recently retired among us were re-activated. I accepted on condition that I get a posting to SoCal, and got lucky."

Both officers sat silently for a moment or two thinking of those who had lost their lives or who had had their lives irrevocably changed by the attack on the JAG HQ, and Tom's mood was only slightly lifted when he thought of Harm almost casually mentioning he'd blackmailed the SecNav.

"You're getting good at that aren't you?" He asked at length.

"What?" asked Harm in turn, somewhat baffled by the question.

"This blackmail stuff." Tom replied, but his grin showed just how much he was gently ribbing his old squadron mate.

"Oh, it's not really blackmail, Tom, just taking a principled stand. Especially with what went on with Mac and I for far too long."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Damn regulations about husbands and wives not serving together. Neither of us wanted to lose our career so we spent too many years dithering, and we nearly blew it completely. Hell!" Harm exploded and sprang to his feet and started pacing the office, "The Army and the Air Force don't seem to have a problem with spouses serving together, even on deployment! Do you know that they actually have double accommodation on some bases in Iraq and Afghanistan - Married Rows they call them? It's about time the damn Navy got its collective head out of its six and joined the rest of the world in the twenty-first century!"

"Hey! Power down, _compadre_. The walls in this place aren't all that thick. Ever hear of 'contemptuous words'? For Chrissake, Hammer, you need to learn to watch what you say round here! Besides, are you really advocating that spouses should be allowed to serve together aboard ship?"

"Yes! No! Oh, I don't know... probably not, on balance. Look Tom, I know we give up a lot when we take our oaths, but this damn prurient interest that the navy has in its personnel's private life - it's like something out of the fifties, like McCarthyism!"

"Harm, you're a lawyer... You don't like the way the system is? So stop griping and change it!"

Harm stopped pacing and looked at his old friend, his chin practically on his chest. "You, Tom are a genius! I'll just write to the CNO, shall I, and tell him that the regs are all wrong for the modern world, and that they need to be changed, and he'll be so grateful to me for pointing out what's wrong, that he'll just tear them up on the spot!"

Tom winced under the flail of Harm's sarcasm, "No, of course it won't be that simple!" he objected, "It'll take years, even if you could get support from Flag Rankers - and good luck with that! But if you want change, then somebody's got to start the ball rolling!"

Harm sat down again, and somewhat calmer he said, "You know, you are right - but this is going to take some very careful thinking, and a lot of care in making approaches to the right people. Yeah, it's something to think about! In the meantime, old buddy," he said, deliberately changing the subject, "how about you giving me the nickel tour of this place, specifically show me which rabbit hutch I'm supposed to occupy!"

"Sure thing, sir," Tom Watie grinned in relief that his old friend's personal radar had, for now at least, locked on to a different target.

x-x-x-x-x

Petty Officer Legalman Second Class Andrea De Luca had until a few days ago been very happy in her posting as yeoman to COMNAVAIRPAC's Judge Advocate General, but the news of his posting across to JSLT had come as an unwelcome surprise. It wasn't that she had a particularly close relationship with Commander Leighton, but he was an undemanding boss with a ready sense of humour and she liked his casual informality and she liked working for him, but this new officer coming to replace him, Captain Rabb... she'd looked up his personnel file, of course, and it seemed that they guy was some sort of gung-ho do or die hero. A Silver Star and two DFCs, neither of which awards was given lightly. But if the guy was some sort of all-American action hero, then how would he fit into the quiet life of a shore-based headquarters?

Well, she'd had eighteen months here, so if the worst came to the worst she could stick it for another six and then get a rotation to another duty station. She had no ties to the area so if she had to move, then move she would.

Her thoughts were interrupted as a tap came on her door, which immediately opened to allow two officers to enter her office. The first she recognised, as she stood to attention behind her desk, Commander Watie, the Admiral's Chief of Staff, the second wearing a captain's shoulder boards and aviator's wings must be, she thought as her stomach flip-flopped, her new chief. But according to the e-mail she'd received on Friday, he wasn't due to appear until tomorrow! Oh, and this wasn't fair! The man was gorgeous! Well, for an older guy, anyway. At least six-three, and those eyes, she had never, never seen eyes so intense or that particular shade of blue... or were they gray... or perhaps green... or perhaps, oh hell! It didn't matter! And it didn't help that the guy was ripped, a real hunk, even though he must be thirty-five if he's a day! What's the betting, though, she told herself, that he's a real pig to work for! If he is, then the next six months were going to be really tough! Oh, he was speaking to her.

"Good morning, Legalman. I'm Captain Rabb. I'm starting here tomorrow morning, are you staying on here, or are you moving with Commander Leighton?"

"Legalman Two De Luca, sir. No sir, I've no orders for anywhere, so I guess I'm staying here."

"Good," Harm smiled at the petite brunette, "You can help me navigate my way through the perils of a staff job and show me the ropes! I look forward to working with you. See you tomorrow, De Luca!"

Andrea slumped back into her chair as the two officers left. Oh God, that smile! She'd never seen a smile like that before. The guy was good-looking anyway, but what that smile did to his face - and to her heart - ought to be illegal in all fifty states; no, it could be made legal in Alaska, the sort of heat it generated would cut down on fossil fuel emissions by at least sixty, no seventy per cent. Still, despite his friendliness just now, she'd still bet he's a right pig, she comforted herself, before she started pounding on the computer keyboard.

x-x-x-x-x

Mac checked her internal clock for what seemed to be the fortieth time in half as many minutes. If that damn flyboy was late, today of all days, she would not only rip him a new six, she'd rip his head off and shove it up there as well! Ah, at last there he was!

"Rabb, where the hell have you been!" she demanded.

"Good morning Colonel, how are you today?" he enquired gently.

Mac looked him in the eyes aghast. OK, in front of Jennifer Coates, Meg McLellan and half the bull-pen, she had just been completely insubordinate and shown reckless disrespect to a superior officer. Please, God, just send a bolt of lightning, any time within the next five seconds, if it's convenient. Please? Damn! God's not listening - again. She swallowed hard and muttered, "My apologies, sir. I don't know what I was thinking."

"I'm sorry, Colonel. Did you say something?" Harm's voice oozed innocence, but his eyes were dancing with devilment.

"I said," Mac repeated in a slightly louder voice, "That I apologise for forgetting the courtesies, sir." and she glared at him as she added _sotto voce,_ "and you are so going to pay for that Harmon Rabb!"

"Gotcha!" he whispered back at her, and unleashed a full power grin at her.

"Ohhh" she groaned, "No fair!"

"Well, Colonel, are we going have to stand here all day, listening to you complaining, or are we going to go and take our daughter to hospital? Because if you don't make a move soon, we're going to be late!

Mac was no longer proof against the humour in voice or face and held up both hands in surrender, "Home and then hospital, I guess! Coates, are you coming with us?"

"Uh, no ma'am. I'll take my own car - it'll make life simpler afterwards, and I'll meet you at the hospital. Surgical wing isn't ma'am?"

Jen watched the amiably squabbling couple head out across the bull-pen, and sighed as she retrieved her cover from her desk, and turned to give Yates his last minute instructions. She picked up her purse and turned towards Meg, "By your leave ma'am?"

"Yes, yes, of course Legalman, off you go... Oh, just before you do, are they always like that?" Meg asked in stunned fascination.

Jen's face split into a huge grin, "Ma'am, you have absolutely no idea!"

x-x-x-x-x

Jen drove directly to the MedCen and made her way to the Surgical Wing, where almost the first person she saw was Tony Cameron waiting by the surgical reception station. He came forward to greet her, saying "Hello Jen, you've come to lend Mattie your support again?"

"Yes, apparently I'm her rabbit's foot," Jen smiled, "Has she arrived yet?"

"No, not yet, but," and he looked up at the wall mounted clock, they've still got a good ten minutes in hand!"

Jen nodded in acknowledgement, and then asked, "How's Sally? I usually bump into her a couple of times a week when I get back from my morning run, but I haven't seen her for a few days, now."

"Sally is perfectly well, thanks Jen. She's beautiful and glowing. Although she tells me if I say that just one more time she's filing for a divorce! She's also showing a little more, and complains she feels like the Goodyear blimp. But she's still managing to shave her legs and can still see her feet, so just for the moment I'm not taking her complaints too seriously."

Jen grimaced sympathetically, she could still remember all too well the size that Harriett Sims had grown to with her last pregnancy, although to be fair Harriett had been carrying twins. Fortunately, perhaps, she was absolved from having to make any comment on a state of health about which she had no idea by the arrival of Harm, Mac and Mattie, with Trish bringing up the rear.

"Good morning Tony," Harm greeted the doctor.

"Harm, Mac, Mattie, Mrs Burnett. How's it going Tiger?" He smiled at Mattie, who managed a tight grin in response.

"Jen, why don't you and Mattie take a seat, while I complete the paperwork with Harm and Mac?" he nodded to a row of the inevitable blue plastic and extremely uncomfortable chairs ranged along one wall of the reception area.

Following his suggestion Jen and Mattie made their way to the seating, followed by Trish who sat so that Mattie was between Jen on the one hand and Trish on the other. Jen looked at her rather white-faced young friend and taking her hand in a gentle grip, she asked "Hey, are you alright, kiddo?"

"Yeah, I'm fine Jen. A little nervous I guess, and damn hungry! I haven't been allowed to eat since last night!" she scowled in the direction of Harm and Mac.

"Yeah, that's the one thing that really sucks about surgery," Jen sympathised, but raised an eyebrow as Trish caught her eye above Mattie's head and gave a slight, a very slight shake of her head. There was obviously more going on here than Mattie was willing to say.

"Uh-huh, Mattie agreed, with a brave attempt at her normal grin, "Still, the good news is that when I get out of here, I get a pizza and ice-cream dinner of my choice. And I'm going to choose ham and mushroom, and", with a decidedly wicked sidelong glance at Jen, she added defiantly, "with pineapple!"

Jen pulled a face to register her disgusted disapproval of this menu, and with a gentle tug on Mattie's curls admonished her, "Disgusting brat!"

Mattie even managed a quiet giggle at Jen's remark, and said, "Oh, yeah, and I get to invite my friends to share it with me! Are you still my friend, Jen?" The last comment was said in such a fake pathetic manner and accompanied by a shameless puppy-dog look that Jen could no longer hold back her own laughter. She slipped her arm around Mattie's shoulder and gave her a fierce squeeze.

"Always, Mattie, always! Even if it means I have to eat a pizza with pineapple on it!"

To her surprise and dismay, Mattie suddenly turned to her and burying her face against Jen's shoulder, she sniffled, "Oh, Jen I'm scared!"

Trish bit her lip; she had been expecting something like this for the past two hours as she had watched Mattie become more and more distressed. This was a ridiculous hour for surgery. The child should have been admitted last night so she could have had a good night's sleep and whisked off to the OR first thing this morning before she'd had time to work herself up into such a state. Fortunately, Jen didn't seem at all put out by Mattie's emotional outburst, and Trish had the shrewd idea that Jen had coped with more than one such episode over the course of Mattie's rehabilitation.

Jen had pressed Mattie's face against her shoulder with one hand, while with the other she was gently rubbing the youngster's back and making soft, hushing sounds. An effective treatment it seemed, as Mattie gradually quietened.

Trish looked across to the reception station where both Harm and Mac had started to move towards Mattie in response to her distress, but Trish gauging Mattie's state and the efficacy of Jen's reaction held up a hand to halt them for a moment while Mattie recovered her composure.

As Mattie gulped, and scrubbed her sleeve across he eyes, Tony signalled a nurse to come forward with a wheel chair, as Harm and Mac crouched in front of Mattie and the three of them shared a hug. Tony cleared his throat, "Are you ready Mattie?"

Mattie nodded, still white faced, but determined as she lowered herself into the chair and Tony said, "The nurse is taking Mattie to pre-op, to get her changed into a hospital gown. It'll be about twenty minutes before she's ready for surgery, and I'll either come myself or send someone to fetch you, so you can wish her luck before she goes into the OR, OK?"

Mac smiled, somewhat weakly and replied, "Yeah, thanks Tony", while Harm could only manage a nod in acknowledgement.

Rarely before, it seemed that time had passed so slowly, twenty minutes Jen felt was more like twenty hours, as the four of them sat in silence waiting for the signal to go and wish Mattie success. At last Tony Cameron returned, "We're just about ready for her now; if you'll come along with me, you can see her on her way in."

They followed the doctor along a short hallway which ended in double doors each with a circular window and with the legend "Authorised Personnel Only Beyond This Point." As they approached the doors, the gurney with Mattie lying on it emerged from a side-corridor and Tony told the Corpsmen to wait for a moment.

Mac was the first to approach, and bending forward she placed a kiss on Mattie's forehead, and whispered, "Go get 'em kiddo!" a salutation that brought another weak grin to Mattie's face. Jen stepped forward and said, "I'm relying on you for dinner tomorrow, don't forget, pizza with pineapple, and I want rocky road ice cream after!"

"Sure thing, Jen!"

Trish smiled, and said 'You'll be fine, Mattie, and we're not going anywhere until we see you again."

The three women stepped back to allow Harm to approach the gurney. He took Mattie's hand in both of his and asked, "Are you with this, squirt?"

Mattie grinned, and made the requisite response, "To hell and back, Hammer!"

Harm's eyes prickled and giving Mattie's hand a gentle squeeze he stepped back before she could detect his emotions and the Corpsmen continued their interrupted journey and Mattie disappeared through the double doors into the depths of the OR.

Tony looked around at the disparate family, and as he had done before, he marvelled at their solidarity and the strength and support they offered each other. "OK, I'm going to scrub in now. All being well, I'll be back out in about ninety minutes, and then we'll just have to wait and see how Mattie's feeling when she comes round from the anaesthetic." He nodded reassuringly at them and in his turn vanished through the double doors.

Harm led them back to the seats in the surgical reception area, where they sat, again in silence, waiting for word to come from the OR. After what seemed an age, Jen sighed noisily and leaning forward with her hands clasped in front of her and her elbows resting on her knees said, "I still hate hospitals and having to wait outside ORs!"

Harm looked puzzled at her outburst, but Mac remembering the associations that such places had for her Yeoman, reached out in an uncharacteristic gesture and gently placed her hand on Jen's forearm, "At least this time we're not bobbing about in the middle of the ocean, Jen," and in response to Harm's raised eyebrows, she added for his benefit, "Bud, _Guadalcanal_."

Harm nodded his recognition of the cryptic reference, and stood, stretching his back. He always suffered in the standard waiting area chair, because of his height and the spine injuries he had suffered as a result of his multiple ejections. When he had told Mac that his body was no longer up to the stress and strains of carrier deck landings he had been perfectly serious. Although Mac hadn't realised that he had been merely stating a fact, and in some ways, relinquishing flight status hadn't been too much of a sacrifice; he suspected that his days of being able to pass a flight medical examination were numbered.

Stretching again, he turned to Jen and said, "You spent some time visiting your friend when she was in here, didn't you?"

"Uh... yes, I guess..."

"So you must know where the best coffee in the place is?"

Recognising his ploy for what it was, and grateful to him for the distraction, Jen smiled and said, "Sure, if you'll walk with me, Captain. Sir?"

As Jen guided Harm down towards the Commissary, he said to her, "You do know that this is nothing like as serious as Bud's case, don't you Jen?"

"Yes, sir, but you'll allow me to worry just a little bit, won't you? It makes me feel better!"

Harm regretted that he hadn't taken the time to change out of uniform before bringing Mattie to the MedCen, as he felt an urge to give Jen a reassuring hug, although he wasn't quite sure which of them would gain the most benefit from the contact.

The trip to and from the Commissary occupied about half an hour, and the coffee by the time it had been brought back to Mac and Trish had retained very little warmth, but still the drinking of it occupied a few minutes which without the distraction of the drinks would have dragged past even slower than they did.

Conversation was slow, desultory and laboured. Trish was still annoyed over the timing of the surgery, while Harm, although he tried to conceal it was worried almost sick about the surgery that Mattie, his little girl, was undergoing, and Jen was in no better state, while yet again Mac was painfully conscious of every passing second. Once again her gift was turning into a curse.

Checking her internal clock again Mac realised that the ninety minutes were up, and sitting up straighter in her chair she looked towards the hallway leading to the OR and watched for Tony Cameron to put in an appearance. Her renewed alertness had the effect of making the remainder of the small group check their watches and an air of expectation developed. Another twenty minutes passed, and Mac was gritting her teeth while Jen kept saying to herself, come on, Tony, come on. What's keeping you? Trish in an unconscious manner was twisting her handkerchief into a useless piece of linen rag, while Harm felt a chill growing in his stomach.

At last. Some forty minutes later than he had prophesised, Tony Cameron walked into the reception area, his face sombre. Mac gasped as she saw his face and grabbed Harm's hand, while Jen went nearly as white as her blouse and heard Tony's voice as if it were coming from a great distance:

"Harm, Mac, I'm sorry, there's been an unexpected complication..."


	27. 23 October 2007 pm

**A/N: **I'm not a great fan of author's notes, but this time, I think I need to make clear that I am not a doctor, and other than first aid instruction, I have received no medical training whatsoever, although I have tried to do some research. So if I've screwed up on Mattie's condition and its causes then put it down to well-meaning ignorance on my part, and/or the exercise of author's privilege. ;-)

**27**

**Tuesday 23 October 2007 pm**

Trish looked around her at the little family, yes, even Jen counted as family in these circumstances. They all seemed to be in too much shock to be able to make a coherent response to Tony Cameron's bombshell. Trish stood and placing a comforting hand on Harm's shoulder she said in a tightly controlled voice, "Exactly what sort of complication, if you please, Dr Cameron?"

Tony pulled off his scrubs cap and wiped his face with it, before hooking a chair around to face the anxious family, and pointedly waited until Trish had sat down again before he sat opposite them leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands loosely clasped in front of him.

"If you remember from when I showed you the MRI scans, there was a little triangular shard of bone that we thought was causing all the problems?" he said looking at them earnestly.

The four faces in front of him showed their recollection. "Well, we were right. It was that little piece of bone that was pinching off the nerves to Mattie's legs. What we couldn't see on the MRI was that the underside of that piece of bone was very sharp and jagged, like a saw-blade. Now, as Mattie has been concentrating on regaining the use of her legs, the extra movements she's been making caused that sharp edge to literally saw into her spinal artery. Now, please appreciate that we are dealing with something very, very small, and even with a magnifying surgical visor it wasn't at all clear what was going on." He paused again to ensure that his audience had heard and understood what he was saying. "Although the bone had cut into her artery, it hadn't severed it, but it had damaged the artery wall, and the pressure the shard was exerting on the artery counter-balanced the arterial pressure. Once I cut the bone out, the internal pressure caused the artery to rupture. Mattie lost a lot of blood very quickly. Now," he held up his hand as it appeared from their faces that he was about to be bombarded with questions, "we controlled the bleed, but not before Mattie's blood pressure crashed, and her heart stopped. We re-started her heart, and the vascular surgeon, Captain Martindale, did an emergency arterial graft, and we are transfusing her now to bring her blood pressure and volume back up to within normal limits.

"But Mattie was down for about two minutes, so until she regains consciousness we won't know what effect, if any, her stoppage may have had. In addition of course, there's the fact that she has sutures - stitches - in her artery. So we'd like to keep her in for a couple of days, just to keep her under observation, and then if everything is OK we can let her go home. Now, when we do let her go home she must have ten days bed-rest to let those sutures dissolve without them pulling on the artery walls. I'm sure I don't need to emphasise how dangerous an internal bleed could be?" The rising inflexion of his voice made it evident that he required some sort of acknowledgement, and looking at the understanding on the row of faces looking back at him, he was reassured that his message had got through.

"After that, she'll need to modify her physical therapy programme, and start out very gently again until we are sure that the graft is holding. She will experience some discomfort as the neural pathways in her legs open up again, it will feel like particularly intense pins and needles. She won't enjoy it; it'll probably drive her mad! But it will be a sign that she's recovering properly. The good news is that Mattie's young, fit - remarkably so considering her condition - and pretty healthy, so she should, barring any other unforeseen complications make a full recovery. In fact, I see no reason why she shouldn't pass the academy physical in time for next year's Plebe Summer."

Trish murmured "Thank you doctor."

Harm jumped to his feet and strode across the waiting area where he seemed to be intently studying one of the many Degas prints of ballerinas hung on the wall throughout the hospita, but which he could hardly see through the tears in his eyes. Jen turned towards Mac and two pairs of equally tear drenched brown eyes held each other's gaze. Jen said. "Ma'am?" and vaguely indicated Harm. Mac nodded and quitting her chair walked to join her husband, standing behind him with her arms around his chest and her head resting on his shoulder blade. Trish watched Mac join Harm and turned back towards Jen, reaching out to take the younger woman's hand, and as she did so, she caught, just for a fraction of a second, a glimpse into Jen's heart, and her own sympathetic heart ached for the Petty Officer's pain.

Tony Cameron watched as each member of the family sought in their own way to come to terms with the news he had brought them, and waited until they were ready to hear more. At length Harm turned back towards the row of chairs and taking his seat asked, "When can we see her?"

"She's in recovery now Harm, and as soon as the anaesthesia wears off, we'll be taking her up to a post-op room. And once we've got her settled, I think we can allow you a short visit, say ten minutes. I'll get someone to call you when she's settled."

x-x-x-x-x

Andrea de Luca moodily glared at the chicken salad she hadn't really wanted, and pushed a few shreds of lettuce around on her plate. The unexpected visit from her new chief this morning had unsettled her., and she wasn't quite sure why. Oh, he was good looking, she wouldn't deny that, and his smile was devastating, she wouldn't deny that either. But, she just wasn't attracted to him. It was more than that though, she wasn't attracted to Commander Leighton either, but he had never made her feel uneasy.

She looked up as a shadow fell across her table, Alison Wetherby stood, holding a tray, "Hi Andrea, do you mind?" she asked, indicating the spare chairs.

"No, of course not, Ali," Andrea contained her curiosity as the Chief of Staff's Yeoman sat opposite her. They knew each other of course, but they weren't close enough friends to make Alison seeking her out at lunch time a regular occurrence.

"M'mm, not bad," Alison remarked as she tried the meat-loaf and potato on her plate, "Maybe you should have tried this instead," she added, indicating the barely touched meal on Andrea's plate.

"No, I don't think so. I don't think it would have made any difference. I don't seem to have much of an appetite today."

"Nervous about all the changes coming up?"

"Yeah. I guess." Andrea dropped her gaze from the tall brunette's startling green eyes.

"I shouldn't worry about it too much, Andi. I met your new guy earlier. He seems OK, and he's got a really cute butt!"

Andrea shrugged uncomfortably, "Has he? I didn't notice," she said in a disinterested voice.

Alison put down her fork. Here at last she felt she was getting near to the crux of the matter! De Luca was just too disinterested in the officer who could either make life easy for her, or make her life a living hell until one of them rotated out. "So... You didn't... uh... check him out, then?" she inquired with an amused and disbelieving grin.

"Well, no, not that way. But I pulled his service record. Ali, the man's a freaking Rambo! What the hell is he doing here? Why do they suddenly want an all-action-hero as our legal eagle? And eagle is right. The man's a jet-jockey! Did you check his wings and his ribbons? He's got a Silver Star for God's sake, and two DFC's. What the hell's suddenly going on here? There's just something about him, about this whole situation that gives me a bad feeling!"

Alison looked at the younger woman. She had meant to indulge in some gentle teasing about how much of hunk this Captain Rabb was, but Andrea de Luca seemed really worried. "OK, Andi. I'll tell you what. I'll do some discreet digging around the yeoman's network, and see if I can come with the good word on this guy. Give me until tomorrow lunchtime, and I'll see if I can get some intel that'll let you, let us know what's going on, OK?"

"You can do that?"

"Sure I can. You Legalmen have no idea just how far reaching the yeoman's network is!"

x-x-x-x-x

Mattie had been settled in her room, and although the anaesthesia was wearing off she was weakened by the loss of blood and tired from the stress of surgery. She had stayed awake long enough at one point to be able to smile her recognition at the half-circle of concerned faces around her bed and to whisper, "'m 'kay," before drifting off back to sleep.

"Are you sure she's OK?" Harm asked the young nurse who was busying herself checking IVs and oxygen lines as well as a host of wires and cables that led to an array of display screens.

As he spoke, Mattie's head rolled on her pillow and she murmured something indistinguishable, the nurse took a quick look at one of the monitors and said, "I think it would be best if you left now, she's not quite asleep, but she's not really awake, and she may be picking up on some emotions."

Harm reluctantly nodded his head, and shepherded Mac, Jen and Trish out into the hallway, where the nurse gently closed the door to Mattie's room and joined them.

Harm looked at her narrowly and said, "OK, Ensign, how's she really doing?"

"Well, I'm not a doctor, sir, and I can't give you a definitive answer, but her vitals look good. Her blood pressure's coming up according to schedule, and it doesn't look like she's in any danger of going back into shock, so once we've replaced all the fluids she's lost, she'll probably be making a nuisance of herself in no time."

Mac gave a tight half-smile at the last part of the young nurse's prognosis, but said worriedly, "But she looks so pale..."

"She's already looking better than she did half an hour ago, ma'am," the young Nurse Ensign told them, "she only looks so pale because of the amount of blood she lost, and the transfusion is going really well. I wouldn't be surprised if she's back with us fully, by the end of the day.

Harm nodded and his face assumed the mulish look that Mac knew so well and meant that he had made his mind up about something, and wasn't prepared to discuss his decision. "Right," he said firmly to the nurse, "I am not leaving my daughter before she wakes up. Mom, can you take Mac home, please? Jen, thank you so very much for being here for Mattie, I know she really appreciates you dropping everything for her, but you should go home too, there's nothing you can do here for the moment, and I promise I'll call as soon as there is any news."

"Alright, Harm," and Mac stretched up to kiss him lightly on the cheek. "We'll go, and leave our hero to save the world again! But you do know that there are other people who care about Mattie, and are just as qualified to sit by her bed until she wakes up!"

Harm had the grace to look sheepish for a couple of seconds, and then let a smile spread across his face, "Yeah, I know, Mac, but... it's Mattie... and I made her a promise, that I would never leave her alone, and..."

"Yeah, I know, Harm. You never make promises that you can't keep. It's alright. You stay, but see if you can't find a comfortable chair. I don't think I could stand a week of your whining about your damn back!" And although her words seemed harsh, the tone she used and the look of love in her eyes as well as the hand that cupped his face all bore testament to her own depth of feeling.

Trish and Jen both felt slightly uncomfortable at Mac's unusual show of affection. She was normally so much the buttoned-down and squared-away Marine that even those who knew her best were unprepared for her to reveal so much of her feelings.

"Well, sir, ma'am," Jen said quietly, but breaking the mood, "I'll be getting on my way," and she picked up her cover and purse, "but I'll call later, sir, if I may? Just to see how Mattie's doing."

"Of course you can call, Jen," Harm replied, "And I'll be sure to let Mattie know when you do!"

"Thank you, sir. Ma'am, Trish."

Mac, Trish and Harm watched as Jen walked briskly down the hallway. "That girl has got a very generous heart," Trish said.

"Yes, yes... I suppose she has," agreed Harm in mild surprise. He'd always appreciated Jennifer being there for Mattie, and in a way for him too. Without her help, he could never have been Mattie's guardian and could never have made their peculiar living arrangements work, and recalling his memories, he acknowledged that those few months when he Jen and Mattie had been a _de facto_ family, were some of the happiest days he had for years, until he'd finally got his head out of his six and married Sarah MacKenzie. And the way she had shared sitting with Mattie after the crash, well, that just went to show how much Jen had come to love the sometimes rebellious and difficult teenager.

Trish still felt troubled by what she thought she had seen in Jen's eyes, but how could she say anything to Harm or especially to Mac, when she had absolutely no proof, just a feeling based on her life experience.

In the meantime Mac had gathered together her own purse and cover, and with a final, "OK, see you later," to Harm, turned to Trish and said, "Unless you're in a tearing hurry, I think I'd like to call in at OB/Gyn, and make an appointment to see my doctor."

Trish pushed her concerns about Jen straight to the back of her mind. "Are you all right, Sarah?"

"H'mm? Oh... oh, yes, I'm fine, I think, I just need to get confirmation that I'm OK to go back to work. It's something stupid that regs insist needs to be done."

x-x-x-x-x

Stacy Caldwell was frustrated. His contacts in Las Vegas had come through, and having e-mailed them a photograph of Mattie, he had been assured that her fake ID would be ready on their arrival, although the price had gone up to a hundred and fifty bucks, but now despite several attempts he had been unable to get hold of Mattie on her cell 'phone. Yeah, she had to be careful talking to him while other people were around, and she couldn't answer the 'phone while she was in class, but he'd been careful to call at lunchtime, and he still couldn't get her to answer. What the hell was the silly little girl playing at now! The hell with her, he needed a drink!

Brooding into his bourbon on the rocks, Stacy pondered his options. The last attempt he had made to visit the Graham's had been met, courteously enough, with the news that Robert was not at home, and Mrs Graham was sorry, but she really didn't like letting men into the house unless she had her own male relations, or trusted male friends to keep her company.

Smarting under the implication that Mrs Graham thought that he couldn't be trusted, and realising that somehow or other he lost the entree to the Graham residence, Stacy almost resolved to prove her right. Linda Graham was a pretty enough girl, he supposed, even if she wasn't quite as foolish as Mattie. It might be amusing to flirt with her for a while and really give that sour-faced old bitch something to worry about. He chuckled cynically to himself, and although he was tempted he shrugged off the idea, San Diego was still one city where he had a shred of reputation. But thinking of Linda Graham, a glimmer of memory came to him, something about Mattie saying that if he couldn't reach her, he should try Linda's number. He knew he didn't have Linda's number, but he did know, and again his cynical grin spread across his face, where she and Mattie went to school!

No sooner had the thought come to him then a quick glance at his watch showed that if he left now, he could probably make to the school before the day's classes ended. It was taking a risk which he would have preferred to avoid, but given any sort of luck he would be able to intercept Mattie before that old woman, or her step-mother - that dumbass woman who thought she was a soldier - or even worse that damn' interfering bitch Coates arrived to pick her up.

At least his estimate of time and traffic had been spot on, and he braked to a halt in front of the school steps bare minutes before he could hear the electronic bells echoing through the halls of the school and within seconds the quietness of study was broken by the noise of hundreds of teenagers heading for freedom.

Stacy propped himself against the door of this car and watched and waited, his patience was rewarded when after about five minutes he spotted Linda Graham and a pale round-faced blonde girl he vaguely recognised walking down the steps, clutching their books to their chests and whispering to each other, their heads practically touching.

"Hey, Linda," he called, attracting not only her attention, but the attention of some of her school mates.

Linda stopped and stared at him. Ever since Robert had hinted that Stacy wasn't the kind of guy he'd like to see hanging around Linda, she had become more critical in her appraisal of him. Yeah, he was still as good looking as ever, it wasn't like he'd suddenly grown horns, or something. But there was something... something... maybe false about him. Like now, he was smiling, sure, but his eyes didn't look right. A sudden shiver ran down her back. What had Mattie been thinking, this guy was all wrong! As soon as Mattie got back on her feet the two of them were going to have a long conversation about Stacy Caldwell! But she didn't want to cause a scene here, so, "Hi Stacy."

Stacy had school his face to stop himself from frowning. Linda was normally much more welcoming than this. What the hell was going on with her now? "Hi Linda, where's Mattie, do you know?"

"Yeah, Linda replied with some satisfaction that apparently he had been left out of the loop, "she went into hospital today to have her back fixed."

Once again Stacy had recourse to his poker face. "Uh, that would be the Navy hospital, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," was Linda's somewhat unhelpful reply, "Look Stacy, I gotta go, I promised Julia a ride home. See you 'round some time, maybe."

Stacy stood dumbfounded and watched them disappear in the direction of the students' car park, and although outwardly calm, he was inwardly consumed with rage. That stupid little bitch was now likely to be unable to travel for ten days or so, and unless he got really lucky on Sunday night, he didn't think he'd have enough cash left to stay in San Diego for ten days! For Chrissakes, all he needed was a little break, just a little luck so that just for once all his plan wouldn't come crashing down around his ears!

He drove back to his hotel almost on auto-pilot, paying very little attention to his surroundings, and was lucky on at least two occasions not to have been involved in a wreck, only the reactions of the other drivers preventing them from hitting his car as he failed to obey traffic laws. Pulling up in the hotel parking lot, his mind was feverishly running down the fast shrinking list of his options. What he needed was a drink to help him think this through properly.

Stacy was so pre-occupied when he entered the hotel lobby that he failed to notice the presence of the two women in the hallway until he had nearly collided with them. He pulled up short, and with a practised eye scanned their appearance their clothes and, particularly the jewellery worn by the younger of the pair, both women were simply, but if Stacey was any sort of judge of women's wear, but expensively dressed. The older woman a tall somewhat severe looking fifty-something wore very little jewellery, just a wedding band and an engagement ring, but the younger, apparently in her thirties wore a necklace of matched pearls, which if they were natural, would put it somewhere in the high four figure price bracket, and on her wrist was a diamond studded Cartier watch, while the wedding band she wore was at least a quarter inch wide, and the diamond on her engagement ring was at least three carats. Yeah, he thought, if these two were travelling alone, and there didn't seem to be any sign of male company, and there seemed to be only enough luggage on the cart for the two of them, then there just might be a source of additional income.

"My apologies ladies, I can only beg your pardon and plead that i was so deep in thought that I was careless of my surroundings." He flashed his grin at them and then taking his wallet from his pocket, produced a card and introduced himself, "Stacy Caldwell, ladies. I'm a fellow guest here."

"Why thank you Mr Caldwell," the younger of the two, quite a pretty brunette, spoke with a pronounced southern accent, Louisiana, or maybe Mississippi, and her voice bore few traces of education or culture. Yeah, definite possibilities here.

x-x-x-x-x

Annette Walker and Jason Tiner had just left the OB/Gyn department where Commander Robbins had provisionally confirmed Annette's home pregnancy test results, pending final confirmation of the blood sample she had taken, when Annette stopped in shocked confusion, not ten feet away Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie, with an older women Annette did not recognise, had also stopped and was staring at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Uh... Jason..." Annette said nervously.

Jason Tiner followed the direction of her gaze, "Oh... crap..." he breathed succinctly,

"Good afternoon, ma'am," Annette greeted her CO.

"Colonel, ma'am" Jason made his contribution as the two of them assumed the attention brace.

"Good afternoon, Lieutenants," Mac replied eying them severely, "Is there something you'd like to share?"

"Uh, not just yet, ma'am," Jason managed to reply having exchanged a quick glance with Annette, and seeing the panic stricken look in her eyes.

"If you do have any news to share Lieutenant Walker, remember regulations state that you must do so within fourteen days of confirmation of diagnosis!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Mac gave them both a disapproving glare and pushed past them through the doors to OB/Gyn suite.

"Well," Jason sighed, running his fingers through his hair, "I guess that takes care of the privacy issue!" and although his words might have been satirical, his tone was almost despairing.

"Are... are you having second thoughts...?" Annette faltered.

Jason turned his head to look at her, her glorious green eyes were brimming with unshed tears, and brushing a slow trickle away from the corner of one of those eyes, he hastily looked around, before leaning forward and dropping a kiss on her forehead. "Never! Never in a thousand years!" he told her emphatically.

Mac let the doors to the OB/Gyn Suite swing closed behind her, her face still set in an angry scowl.

"You were a little harsh on that young couple, Sarah," Trish admonished Mac, her voice and her raised eyebrows showing surprise.

"Dammit, Trish! It's not fair! They're not even a couple, they barely know each other, and if Annette Walker is pregnant, then I'll bet a million bucks that it's not planned! Oh, Trish, why is it so easy for everyone else, except me?" Mac's voice rose to an almost wail of frustration, and Trish could see the tears springing to her eyes.

"Sarah, darling, we can only play the cards we've been dealt," Trish tried to offer some comfort to her daughter in law, but knowing from previous experience of Mac's temper that this was a subject on which Sarah MacKenzie was not prepared to be reasonable, she braced herself for the storm she suspected was on its way.

"Dammit, Trish I know! And yes, I'm probably being unfair! But I feel like being unfair, and despotic and harsh..."

Mac's rant was interrupted by the blonde Corpsman Petty Officer she had encountered on her previous visit, "Excuse me, ma'am, but you need to lower your voice, please? We... we don't need to have all our other patients upset, and you aren't doing yourself, or your baby, any good getting all upset like that. Please ma'am?"

Mac went almost white with rage, "Don't... don't you dare patronise me, Petty Officer, I'll..."

Trish's voice cut across Mac's, "That will be quite enough from you Sarah MacKenzie! I'm ashamed of you! How dare you abuse your authority like that! Whatever would Harm say?"

Mac stopped, stunned. Yes, Trish had torn into her before, but never in public like this! The red of mortification flooded her face, and she gulped, she shot an appalled look at her mother in law and then turning to the Petty Officer and said in a very small voice, "I... I'm sorry, Corpsman Two, that... that was inexcusable of me, I have no right to take my frustration and temper out on you."

The Petty Officer was taken aback, and she too flushed with embarrassment, she was not used to receiving apologies from Lieutenant Colonels, and the waiting area was occupied by three other women in various stages of pregnancy, all of whom were watching with undisguised interest as the little scene unfolded.

"Thank you, Colonel. Shall we find somewhere a little more comfortable?"

"Yes, thank you," Mac replied understanding with a great measure of relief and gratitude that the Corpsman's 'more comfortable' actually meant 'more private', and let the young blonde enlisted woman guide her through a door into one of the consultation rooms.

The Corpsman left her and Trish on their own and Mac was acutely aware that her mother in law was still regarding her with marked disfavour, the atmosphere in the little room becoming almost tangible. Neither woman said a word for long minutes, until Mac finally broke the silence. "Yes alright. You were right. I lost it, and I took my temper out on someone who I shouldn't have!"

"Yes," Trish retorted sharply, "and someone who wasn't in a position to tell you off in the manner you so richly deserved! And that was just plain bullying! Sarah, I know you're going through a lot; I know that this," Trish indicated the whole OB/Gyn suite and let the edge of criticism leave her voice, "isn't easy on you, but Sarah, darling you must keep a grip on your temper. That's twice since I came down here only ten days ago, that you have lost your temper over really quite minor matters. I worry, for you, darling, and I worry for your baby. Raising your blood pressure like that can't be good for the little one..."

Neither of them had noticed that the door had opened to allow Commander Robbins to enter the room, and her voice was sufficient to cut Trish short as she said, "You are quite right ma'am! Colonel, we have talked about your blood pressure before, and why you can't risk having it go through the roof! Now, in light of just what's happened, I'll be happier if I just give you a quick once over, so if you don't mind, ma'am...? Tiffany Robbins cocked her head towards Trish and nodded towards the door.

"Oh... yes. Yes, of course!" Trish whisked herself out of the door but not before she'd heard the Doctor say, "Now, Colonel, take off your jacket, and just jump up there on the couch..."

x-x-x-x-x

Jen drove home still concerned about Mattie, but perhaps, and even if she wouldn't admit it to herself, more concerned about how Mattie's setback was affecting Harm. She remembered only too clearly how he'd withdrawn into a complete funk when Mattie had first been injured. She remembered how she'd had to interrupt him in the JAG's office to tell him that Mattie's plane had crashed, and she remembered the stricken look on his face as, almost without a word, he'd grabbed his cover and almost run down to the parking lot. But worst of all, she remembered how he'd dug his trenches and set out his barbed wire and minefields, and had refused to let anybody in. She had been the only one to be able, eventually, to penetrate his defences, and she remembered too, how bitterly hurt Mac had been when she'd been included amongst those he wasn't going to let in to share his misery. And she, Jennifer Coates, was going to make damn certain that he didn't pull that kind of crap again. She wasn't sure how she was going to stop him, but stop him she would.

Still running various scenarios through her mind, she parked outside her building and entering the main doors, more or less absent-mindedly pressed the appropriate buttons to take the elevator up to the third floor, where on entering the apartment she saw Fran busying herself at the ironing board. Putting the question of Harm, Mac and Mattie to one side for the moment, she put her cover on the sideboard and turned back towards her blonde friend.

"Hi Fran, what are you up to?"

Fran turned towards Jen, holding one of her summer whites blouses, "I'm getting ready for duty for tomorrow. I had my physical this afternoon and the medicos cleared me for return to restricted duty. I have to go back in a month for a final check-up. Well... I hope it's going to be the final one. Jen, you have no idea just how deathly it's been around here!"

"Fran! I'm sorry... did I forget? I should have been with you but..."

"No, you didn't forget, Jen," Fran looked a little guilty. "Uh... I... uh... never told you..."

"Why on earth not?" Jen turned to stare at her friend in surprise and shock.

"Well, it's just that things have been a little weird between us, ever since..." Fran turned back to the ironing board and laid her blouse out on it, "And anyway, I didn't want to make you take a half-day's leave when I wasn't sure that the physical would show that I could go back to work..."

Jen took the iron from Fran's grasp and carefully set it on the sole plate at the end of the board and folded her arms around her friend. "Stoopid," she told her gently, and led her to the couch, "As if I'd let a stupid squabble over that dumb jarhead get between us! And, it just so happens, I've spent the afternoon at the MedCen anyway! So if I'd known you were there, I could have stopped by to say 'hi', at least!"

Fran looked at her friend with quick concern, "Jen, what were you doing at the MedCen? You're not sick, or anything are you?"

"No, I was kidnapped..." Fran's mouth dropped open. "No, not like that!" Jen laughed, "The Colonel came into the office this morning, had a meeting with Commander McLellan - and I'm still not sure about her - then told me to secure and go with her and the Captain up to the MedCen, to be there for Mattie."

Fran still looked bewildered.

"Oh, Fran, I _know_ I told you about Tony Cameron - from downstairs?" Jen said in amused exasperation, and Fran nodded, "and that he was going to operate on Mattie's back problem?" Fran nodded again. "Well he did, today, and Mattie asked if I could be there, so the Colonel dragged me out of the office and up to Bob Wilson!"

Fran sat straighter, "Mattie's had her procedure?" she asked excitedly, "How did it go?"

"Well," Jen said slowly, "according to Tony, the procedure looks like it was a success, but there was a complication, so they're keeping Mattie in for observation for a couple of days. So, how about tomorrow, after we secure, we take a trip up to the MedCen and try and cheer her up?"

"What sort of complication?" Fran wanted to know, her blue eyes seeming to grow to an enormous size in a worried face.

"Umm... I'm not quite sure, but I think Tony said an artery ruptured and Mattie lost quite a lot of blood, so they had to patch that up, and then they've put her on a transfusion thing to replace the blood she lost. But he says she'll be fine in a few days!"

"Oh, no... poor Mattie... it seems that nothing ever goes right for her!"

"That's why we're going to try and cheer her up."

"How?"

"Well, first, we're going to tell her friends she's in dry dock, so they can send her cards and flowers, and such. And then, I've got an idea..." She grinned at her friend, but then instead of expounding on her thoughts, she picked up the phone and punched in a number. "Hi, Mrs Graham...? It's Jen Coates calling, is Linda home? Oh, no... nothing's wrong, I just wanted to let her know that Mattie's had her operation. No, she's fine, as far as I know, but they're going to keep her in for a day or two, just for observation... Yeah, I guess... Well, it's just that hospital's a pretty depressing place to be, so i thought that if I called round tomorrow, say at about eighteen... oops! Sorry, six o'cl... Oh... yeah double oops! I forgot, of course you know military time! Well, I was going to suggest that if I picked Linda up at about eighteen hundred I could take her up to the MedCen and she could spend an hour gossiping with Mattie about whatever it is they gossip about, and I promise to have her home by twenty-hundred hours at the latest. Mrs Graham... Oh, alright then... Alice, thank you, I'm sure Mattie will love having Linda visit her! OK, then I'll see both of you tomorrow evening. 'Bye, and thanks again"

Fran looked measuringly at her best friend, whose face was a picture of innocence. Jen looked far too innocent to be anything other than guilty. "OK, give!" she said, "What's going on in that devious little mind of yours?"

"Well... do you remember when Linda came around; she had her brother walk with her?"

"Yes..."

"Well... I've always had a feeling that he's kinda..."

"Sweet on her?" Fran twinkled.

Jen couldn't help a quick giggle at the old-fashioned term, but it was somehow more fitting than any of its modern equivalents that she could think of off-hand, "Yeah... in a kind of cute way. But I'm betting that if Robert - the brother - finds out that Mattie's in hospital, then I wouldn't be surprised if Linda didn't have a card, or maybe some flowers from him for Mattie. And it may just be that it might take her mind of that damn Stacy!"

Fran was surprised, "Still? That's some damn crush!"

"Yeah, yeah it is! But, I think that this procedure may have just about come at the right time to FUBAR his plans once and for all." Jen paused to add weight to her words, "But, in the meantime, we have got something far more important to talk about, Miss Neumann. It's what, only eight, nine weeks until your wedding? And you haven't told me a thing about your dress, or... or... anything!"

"Well, I've seen this dress that I really, really like," Fran enthused, her face lighting up, "But it's a bit more expensive than I'd hoped. I know mom and dad said they'd buy my dress for me but..."

Jen smiled, "Hold that thought, I'll make us a cup of hot chocolate... Do we still have any marshmallows - or have you eaten them all? And then we can sit down and have a comfortable one on one!"

"I do _not_ eat the marshmallows!" Fran denied hotly, but had the grace to blush when she encountered Jen's ironical smile.


	28. 29 October 2007

**28**

**Monday 29 October 2007 **

Jen looked across Mattie's bed at Trish. Every day since Mattie had been released from hospital Jen had called in to see her each morning on her way to work. And again each afternoon on the way home. The mercurial teenager seemed to be recovering well on the physical level, apart from complaining of the intense pins and needles sensations she was experiencing in her leg, but her moods were subject to violent swings as her emotions either soared to new heights or plummeted to new depths for no apparent reason. In addition, she chafed badly at being confined to bed, and was impatient for the doctors to give her the all-clear so that she could start physical therapy and find out just how successful the procedure had been.

This morning was not one of her better days, she'd woken surly and remained that way through her necessarily restricted ablutions and through breakfast, barely brightening when Jen called in to see how she was doing. Jen sighed to herself, as she perched on the side of the bed and dropped a quick kiss on Mattie's forehead. Mattie scowled but allowed the caress, as Jen said, "Well you're obviously having a hissy fit this morning Matts, but I still love you. And I'll see you this evening on my way home. Is there anything I can get you?"

"Just a pair of working legs!" was the rather ungracious reply.

"Well, I can't promise you that, but..." a gleam of mischief came into Jen's eye, "how about a quart of fudge swirl vanilla ice-cream?"

Mattie gave Jen a direct look. "Are you trying to bribe me into being nice?"

"Umm... well... yeah... sort of..."

"OK," Mattie said, her petulant expression fading slightly, as she raked her fingers back through her hair, "works for me!"

"OK, see you. Bye."

Trish walked Jen down to the door and Jen took advantage of the few seconds' privacy to ask, "How often does she get these moods, Mrs Burnett?"

"Jennifer, for the Lord's sake will you please call me 'Trish'! But Mattie's moods? Oh... not often... only every day when the mail-carrier's been, or when she reads the card on a bunch of flowers addressed to her..."

"Oh?"

"Yes, it seems this young man of hers - Stacy, is it?" Jen nodded, "Well, it seems he's not quite as devoted as Mattie thinks he is. He hasn't sent her a single card or flower, and to the best of my knowledge he hasn't even called. Jen, it's heartbreaking when she realises there's been another delivery but it's only a card from Julia Weaver, or some fruit from Linda Graham's mom, or a posy of flowers from one of the boys at school, or a funny balloon from Linda or a bouquet from her brother, and there's still nothing from him."

"M'mm... it might be what she needed though, Mrs Burnett, to make her see him as the rest of us do."

"Jennifer!"

"Sorry, Trish, but it seems weird to me, I have to call the Colonel, 'ma'am', and the Captain, 'sir', and it doesn't seem right to be all that formal with them, and then turn round and call the Captain's mom by her name!"

x-x-x-x-x

Harm stretched his shoulders and rolled his head in an attempt to loosen muscle that had become knotted by too long a period spent reading through the briefs and agreements on his desk. A quick look at his watch showed that he could just about get away with another mug of coffee and he reached out for the intercom button, but before he could press it to summon his Yeoman he changed his mind and quitting his desk he walked from his office into the ante-chamber where De Luca had her little empire. Andrea jumped to her feet as he entered unheralded, but Harm waved her off, saying, "As you were Legalman, as you were," as he made his way across to the coffee machine to pour himself a brew.

"Oh, sir, I could have gotten that for you," Andrea protested.

"Yes, I know... I'd only have to ask. But, do you know? I really felt the need to stretch my legs for a minute or two, and at just about the same time, I felt the need for a coffee." He smiled at her and indicating the coffee jug asked, "Creamer with no sugar for you, right?"

Andrea felt her mouth drop open. This was the guy's fourth day in the office, well third really, his first day had been spent in-processing, and he knew how she took her coffee? This was really weird! But, she managed to voice a polite protest, "Sir, thank you, but it's not your job..."

Harm finished pouring the two cups of coffee, and carried them to her desk. Perching on the corner of the desk, Harm took a sip from his coffee and said, "Legalman De Luca, I think we need to get a couple of things straightened out." He smiled at the worried expression that leapt to her face. "No, don't worry, it's nothing bad. But firstly we need to do something about this coffee. Maybe I've been hanging round with jarheads for too long, and I did marry one, but I'd like the coffee to be just a tad stronger, if you can manage that. Now, secondly, I'm your boss and you're my aide, but that doesn't necessarily mean that we have to have a 'yes, sir, no sir, three bags full sir,' working relationship. Some time ago, I was ripped a new one by my Yeoman, who told me in no uncertain terms, that when she came to work at JAG she had come to be part of a team, to work with me instead of just for me. I listened to her, and I'm glad I did. She was a damn good Legalman and she made me look good, even on my worst day! So, I've taken her words to heart, and I'd like to think of us as a team. Team members help each other out De Luca, so if I'm pouring myself a coffee, then I'm quite happy to pour a cup for you too."

Andrea could only stare at her new officer and eventually managed a half-smile and rather stifled, "Yes, sir, thank you, sir" as he stood and gave her a smile of sympathy and understand before returning to his own office. Andrea sat and stared unseeing at her PC Screen. What the hell had just happened here? Her CO had fixed her a cup of coffee, confessed that he'd let a previous Yeoman tear him a new six, and then said that as much as they could he wanted them to be a team. And that smile! It still ought to be illegal, but he did give her a warm feeling. She sighed and shook her head as she bent back to the wearying task of typing out proposed amendments to the COMNAVAIRPACINSTRs.

Harm sat at his desk, poor De Luca, he was afraid he had just shattered her world view. Well, she'd get used to it, or she'd have to find another billet, where life was more structured. He grinned wryly; he knew he'd been spoiled by exposure to two very different but two very good Yeomen, Jason Tiner, and Jennifer Coates, and to go back to treating an important member of his team as some sort of underclass was not going to be possible, young Andrea didn't seem to be convinced yet, so as the officer it was up to him to establish his command style, and he hoped she'd get with his programme.

And talking of getting with programmes! His initial interview with his CO, the COMNAVAIRPAC, had been interesting, to say the least, well from an attorney's point of view, anyway, and he definitely was going to need a Legalman who was fully on board with him, not one who was just going through the motions...

"Well, Rabb," the admiral had said after greetings had been exchanged and Harm had been waved to a seat, "We have recently come across a jurisdictional... ah... not dispute, but let's say anomaly. Our operations against the Taliban in Afghanistan, the insurgents in Iraq and continued occurrences of piracy both in the seas around Indonesia, Malaya and Thailand and also off the coast of Somalia, have led to the involvement at various times of elements of the Pacific Fleet, the Atlantic Fleet and Central Command. You would have thought that with forces from all three elements flying the same flag that we would all be on the same page in terms of defining rules of engagement. Apparently," he added dryly, "that is not the case. CINCPAC has been tasked with drawing up ROEs binding on all three commands. We get to be the lucky guys; we get a double header because of the piracy in Far eastern waters and operations over Afghanistan. I need to be sure that whatever proposals we put forward conform to international law. The International Tribunal at The Hague already want to prosecute a Commander Weston for 'crimes against humanity'. Weston is the skipper of the _Alfred T Watson, _part of the anti-piracy patrol. He caught half a dozen of these so-called pirates in the act of attacking a merchant vessel, he gave them a choice between being hanged from the yardarm, or swimming ashore. They were about a mile from shore, so they elected to swim for it, so he let them go, but apparently in a fit of absent mindedness neglected to un-cuff them before their swim. Apparently, they found it impossible to swim back to shore with their hand cuffed behind their backs, and I understand that between the cuffs and the sharks none of them made it."

Harm winced, "What's happening to Weston, sir?"

"He will now be your wife's problem, Commander. What I need you to concentrate on is framing rules of engagement that conform to maritime law and the laws of armed conflict, as they pertain to armed hostile civilians and individuals taken in acts of piracy." He grinned wryly, "I understand from your predecessor that if Weston had summarily hanged the murdering SOBs then he would have at least three hundred years of precedence to quote in his defence!"

"Needless to say, CINCLANT and CENTCOM have their own JAGs looking to frame ROEs that they are happy with, and almost as sure as God made little apples their ideas will neither march with ours or each others'! Captain Nicholson, Mike Nicholson, is CINCPAC's Staff JAG on this one. Do you know him?" but without waiting for a reply he continued, "And he has the task of co-ordinating all input and framing the complete ROEs for the Pacific Fleet. He is senior to you, but I've spoken to him on several matters and he appears to have his head screwed on when it comes to dealing with ROEs and he appears to have some understanding of how staff officers and line officers see things differently. That fact and those," he gestured to Harm's wings and ribbons "may cut you some slack with him. Good luck, Rabb, Dismissed!"

That conversation was responsible for the Rushmore-sized stack of Maritime Law books that sat sneering at him on his desk as well as the file-folders filled with after-action reports from both the anti-piracy patrols and the carrier strike groups who had launched air strikes on targets in Afghanistan, as well as Iraq. It was the involvement of CENTCOM as the directing headquarters for both Areas of Operations that was likely to be his biggest headache on this task, and he didn't see himself wrapping it up at any time in the near future. And that made the inclusion of his Legalman as a team member even more important!

x-x-x-x-x

Annette Walker and Jason Tiner had been on tenterhooks until this morning when a manila envelope bearing the stamp of the Bob Wilson Medical Centre had been delivered to Annette's address. She and Jason had sat at the table in her small kitchen cum dining room and stared at it for a good ten minutes before he'd nervously cleared his throat, "Well... are you going to keep us in suspense all day?" he'd tried to joke.

Annette turned a worried face from the envelope toward him, "Jason, I'm scared. I_ know_ what that letter's going to tell us, and I'm scared, I don't know what to do, what to say, or even what to think, and I'm scared of what you might say, or how you might react. Jason, this isn't fair! We were careful, I take the pill religiously, and we used a condom. How could this happen? Why did it happen to us?"

Jason heaved a silent sigh of relief, at least Annette had said 'us' instead of me. He shrugged, "I don't know, Annette. I'm told these things happen; that nothing is a hundred per cent. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. After all," he grinned weakly, we're relying on facts not yet in evidence."

Annette tried to smile, but it was a feeble, wavering try, and reaching out she picked the envelope up off the table and drew a deep breath, "Oh, well," she muttered, "here goes nothing."

Jason sat silently watching as Annette rapidly scanned the letter. She looked across the table at him her eyes full of tears but a smile, a real smile, and gulped, "Jason, I think it's time we had a conversation..."

Jason nodded. "Are we...?"

"Yes, estimated time of arrival last week in June."

"So... if you don't mind the bump showing, that gives us say... six months to plan the wedding, or if you want to be more discreet, then we could move quicker?"

"Wedding?" Annette replied blankly.

"Yes, wedding. You know, one of those things where the Minister or Justice says 'do you'..."

"He does?" Annette's answer still betrayed her total surprise.

"Yes, and then you say, 'I do'"

"I do?" Again there was no emotion in either her voice, or her face, which had definitely, Jason thought, got paler.

"Yes... but little more enthusiasm would be nicer?"

"Wedding? Jason Tiner," at last Annette seemed to have regained some control over her thought processes, even if she still did look a little shocked and pale, "did you... did... did you just... propose to me?"

"Ummm... yeah, I guess so. Yes, I did." He started to look worried.

"Are... are you sure about this... I don't want you proposing to me just because I got myself knocked up!"

"Hey! Don't you go trying to take all the credit, here girl! What's with this 'I got myself knocked up' crap? I'd like to think that I had a hand in it somewhere! And no, I did not just propose to you, because we're having a baby. I proposed to you because I love you, and I don't want to even contemplate life without you, and I was going to wait until Christmas to ask you but," and he pulled his hand out of his dress blues jacket and taking hold of her hand, continued, "I bought this a few weeks ago, and now is a better time than I could ever have planned. Will you, Annette Caroline Walker, marry me?" And he opened his other hand to show her a small, blue velvet covered box.

x-x-x-x-x

Mac stood and stretched her back, wary as always for the slightest indication of cramps. She'd had one or two minor spasms, nothing to worry about she'd told herself, and she hadn't wanted to worry Harm unnecessarily; they had both known that any pregnancy was going to be maybe not as smooth sailing as some, so she'd just have to act in the best tradition of the Corps, and suck it up. Still, at least she's gotten her own office back, Meg McLellan had moved into Sturgess' old office, so she felt more comfortable unbuttoning the waist band of her skirt. This was ridiculous! She wasn't anywhere near far enough along to start piling on the pounds. Dammit! If this carried on she'd have to start eating Harm's rabbit food, and wouldn't that just make his day!

But for now, she had the damn Weston Court Martial with which to deal. After she had read through the case file she came to the conclusion that the Commander was sunk. All the witness statements, including his own, told virtually the same story, he had given the pirates - the alleged pirates, she reminded herself - a choice between certain death by hanging, and probable death by being thrown overboard with their hands secured behind their backs. This case was a no-brainer. She sat in thought for a few minutes before sighing and pressing the interphone's call button, "Coates?"

"Yes, ma'am"

"Pass the word for Major Saunders and Commander Leighton, please. I want them here ASAP!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am!"

The two officers stood at attention in front of her desk waited only a few seconds before Mac spoke. "At ease, Gentlemen. Take a seat." She waited until both were seated, and pushed a file folder towards each of them, "Commander Steven Weston, murder two, six counts. He's waived his rights and gone straight for a court martial. Major Saunders, you're trial counsel, Commander Leighton, you're defending. Any questions? No? Good, dismissed."

Mac shook her head. She hated cases like this one, and she didn't like handing out media sensitive cases to untried counsel, but other than Meg McLellan and Faith Coleman, she just didn't have anyone else with the experience, no matter how rusty they might be. And she needed McLellan and Coleman for the Trygvassen arms dealing case. She'd looked through the file and wasn't entirely happy with the NCIS investigation, not that that was anything new, she remembered with a bitter smile. They'd screwed up on two different occasions that she knew of while investigating, and on the grounds that Harm had known the victims arrested him in both cases. The first case had been pretty quickly blown out of the water, but the second botched case almost saw Harm sent to Leavenworth for life. And she hadn't been very happy over their handling of the Gillespie affair either. Dammit again! She'd have to speak to the Special Agent in Charge of the San Diego Office, what the hell was his name - oh crap! Johnson! He said he'd just been assigned here, and then she'd met Catherine Gale in OB/Gyn, and she'd said her name was now Johnson and that her husband had just been posted here. Damn! Well, that was just fine and dandy! But it didn't alter her decision. Again she pressed the interphone's call button, "Coates?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Pass the word for Commander McLellan and Lieutenant Tiner, please, my office, ASAP!"

"Uh, yes ma'am. Ma'am?"

"What is it Coates?"

"Ma'am, Lieutenant Tiner is already here; he and Lieutenant Walker were just asking if you were free to see them?"

"Damn!" Mac sighed. She knew what was about to happen, well partly. She knew what Walker and Tiner had to tell her about what had happened, now she suspected she was about to find out what they wanted to happen! "Very well, Legalman, pass them in, and still pass the word for Commander McLellan, but have her put a ten minute hold on reporting!

"Aye, aye, ma'am!"

Mac sat back in her chair and straightened her uniform as she waited for the knock at her door. Staying silent, she waited until the door opened and her two lieutenants approached and halted in front of her desk.

"You wanted to see me Lieutenants?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Annette replied. "As you suspected from our encounter at the MedCen the other day, ma'am, I do have something that I need to report. I can confirm that I am pregnant and my due date is the last week in May or the first week in June. My Appendix A to NAVINST 6000 and my DD 689, ma'am," Annette took the slim manila file folder from under her arm and handed it to Mac.

"And Lieutenant Tiner, am I to infer from your presence here that you are the father of Lieutenant Walker's baby?"

"That is correct ma'am," Jason answered.

"And am I also to take it that this pregnancy doesn't quite fit with any prior plans you had made?"

"No, ma'am", Annette replied, "it has kinda thrown a spanner into the works."

Jason interrupted, "But I'm also here to tell inform you that Lieutenant Walker and I intend to get married as soon as we can arrange a date and sort things out with our families."

Mac nodded, "I see. You are both determined on this course?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"In that case a double dose of congratulations to you both. You realise that one of you will either be re-assigned or have either of you fulfilled your career commitment to the Navy?"

Jason exchanged a look with Annette before answering, "Yes, ma'am, we realise that, and no neither of us are eligible to resign yet, And if it's alright with you ma'am, Jason said, "if you can get away with only re-assigning me, it would make it easier for Ann… for Lieutenant Walker if she could stay on here."

Mac rubbed gently pressed her finger tips against her temples for a second or two, and then sighed, saying, "Alright Lieutenants, I'll set the wheels in motion, and see what, if anything, there is available. Lieutenant Walker, dismissed. Stand fast Lieutenant Tiner."

Annette looked worriedly at Jason, before facing front and replying, "Aye, aye, ma'am!"

Mac waited for the female lieutenant to leave the office before saying, "Alright Mr Tiner, at ease. Don't look so worried, this has nothing to do with your personal life." She pressed the call button again, "Coates?"

"Ma'am?"

"Has Commander McLellan…"

"Arrived yet ma'am? Yes, ma'am she's waiting right now."

Mac looked up as the door opened just in time to catch a flicker of amusement on Jason's face. "Yes," she said with a grim smile, "she's still doing it! Commander McLellan, Mr Tiner. The Trygvassen case; I know NCIS have carried out an investigation and have come up with enough _prima facie_ evidence to support a case for at least an Article 32 hearing. However, in my experience NCIS investigations have not always been successful in uncovering the truth." She looked directly at Tiner who had been the JAG's Yeoman during both those cases, and although he wasn't too clear on the details of the first case, he distinctly remembered the bungled investigation of the second had almost landed the then Commander Rabb with a life sentence in Leavenworth.

"So, Commander, you will carry out a JAGMan investigation as part of your duties as defence counsel for this case. Mr Tiner, you will sit second chair."

"Who will act as trial counsel, Colonel?" Meg asked.

"I will decide that, once you have concluded your investigation, but only if there is enough evidence to go to trial, clear?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Very well, dismissed!"

x-x-x-x-x

Andrea De Luca paid for her lunch of tuna pasta salad and wandered away to the outside seating area, looking for Alison Wetherby, eventually seeing her talking to another young Petty Officer Andrea vaguely remembered seeing in the Operations section. Andrea approached the table and somewhat diffidently said, "Hi Alison, is it OK if I..." and she looked significantly at one of the two spare chairs.

"Andi!" Alison exclaimed with every sign of happiness, "Of course, pull up a chair. Sue, this is Andi De Luca, works for NAVAIR's Jag; Andi, this is Sue Morrison, one of our Yeoman Mafia, works over in Surface Warfare. Sue's not been here long; her last assignment was with the SECNAV's office at the Pentagon. Your Captain Rabb has quite a rep in the DC area. Tell her, Sue."

The slim red-head smiled, "From what I've heard, your boss walks on water. Apart from being a pilot then lawyer then pilot then lawyer, he's got a really cool record of helping people in trouble, usually landing himself in the smelly stuff. You know he's married, right? Well, his wife's the head of Legal Services across the way. Her Yeoman is really a Legalman he saved from the brig and straightened. She was the last JAG's Yeoman until he retired and then when the Rabbs got PCS'd out here she asked to come with them. And then they adopted a teenager who'd been crippled in a 'plane crash. And there were a couple of former marines and sailors he helped out of bad stuff with the civilian cops. Oh, yeah, he defended the SECNAV in the international court, and he's crashed two F-14s. But I've asked around all the girls I know that knew him in Falls Church, and on board the _Patrick Henry_ and the _Seahawk_, and their verdict is that he is one of the good guys! And Sandy Dennis, one of the girls, says he's got the cutest six she's ever seen!""

"There you are, Andi, does that make you feel any better?" Alison asked with a grin.

"What? That he's one of the good guys, or that he's got a cute six?" Andrea demanded.

"Either... or both, if you prefer," Alison offered, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"Yeah, actually, it does," Andrea confessed.

"Which one... or both?" Alison teased.

"That's for me to know and for you to find out!" Andrea said, finally smiling as the vague sense of oppression she'd had for days finally lifted, "And I'll tell you something else," she said to Sue, "that you can add to your data base. He's not afraid to make coffee for the hired help - and there's not many O6's would do that!"

"No... I s'pose not," Sue said, gathering her used plate and cutlery as she prepared to go back to work, "and it's always worth knowing that." She smiled at Alison, "I'll see you tonight, then Ali, OK?"

"Yeah, fine... don't forget the chocolate and soda; I'll take care of the movie and the popcorn!"

"Girls' night in?" queried Andrea with a smile.

"Yeah, Sue's my ex-boyfriend's kid sister," Alison twisted in her chair to watch Sue walk away, and then turned back to Andrea, "and we've stayed friends, even though Pete was a grade A class one ass. We generally meet up a couple of times a month, and have a real girlie night. Tonight it's movie night - 'The Bridges of Madison County', did you ever see it? It's an oldie but goldie."

"Uh... no... But I think my mom had it on tape when I was a kid... Meryl Street, was in it, right?"

"Meryl Streep, you mean. Yeah, you were close, but no cigar. But you should rent the DVD, and see for yourself, I'll bet you won't regret it!" Alison stood up and policed her side of the table, "Anyway, like Sue, I gotta get back to my desk before _my _hard-ass boss writes me up for being UA."

"'Kay, see you later." It was with a sense of relief that Andrea watched the older woman walk away. Maybe she was being hyper-sensitive, but it had seemed to her that when Alison had watched Sue walk away, she wasn't just watching, she'd almost seemed to be checking out the other girl's six. Andrea gave herself a mental shake; she must have been reading things into innocent actions that just weren't there, and that had to stop quickly, before she found herself a whole world of unnecessary trouble. But it was good to know that her new officer was generally liked and respected by people who had the most contact with officers.

x-x-x-x-x

Stacey Caldwell was almost happy. For the last ten days he had devoted himself to paying attention to the attractive woman he had met in the hallway, Darcy Thomsett, as she'd introduced herself. She was travelling with her sister-in-law, Marian Lee, "No relation to the famous general," she'd giggled.

She was, she'd explained visiting California, something she'd always wanted to do, but, "I was very young when I got married, and my husband was so much older than I. He had a ranch up in Montana and when he could take a vacation he took us to Europe or to Australia and New Zealand, and to the Far East, until it got too dangerous, after those terrible people bombed that resort in India. It was in India wasn't it?"

Stacy had smiled, "No, Mrs Thomsett, it was Indonesia," he'd gently corrected her.

"Oh isn't that the same place?" She had queried naively.

"No, I'm afraid not. So you managed to talk him into a domestic holiday this year, then?" Stacy was a bit wary, there had been no sign of a husband, and he didn't want to end facing some primitive shotgun wielding hillbilly from the Hole in the Wall country.

"Oh... no, Chuck passed, just above a year ago. And this is the first time I felt like going anywhere or doing anything. And after last year, I just couldn't face the thought of a Montana winter alone on the ranch. I'm just a poor little Southern gal, and I never could get used to all that snow up there, I just guess that my blood's too thin."

"Well, now you're here in sunny Southern California, we'll just have to try and warm you up," he had smiled suggestively.

"Why! Mr Caldwell!" she had exclaimed, "I declare that you are the most wicked man I ever did meet!" but her smile and the laughter in her eyes proclaimed her to be not all displeased, as was not the case with the austere Mrs Lee, who whose sniff of disapproval was clearly audible from where she sat ten or so feet away.

Stacy had shot her a quick glance; a look not unnoticed by Mrs Thomsett, who had leaned forward, and tapped him gently on the knee, "You mustn't mind Marian, you know," she confided in a stage whisper, she had an unhappy marriage, and she's gotten so that she don't... uh... that she doesn't like men at all."

"And I take it you don't share her prejudice?" he asked with his most charming smile.

"No, not at all, particularly when they are charming and sophisticated!" she had returned.

"Oh... sophistication is it?" he'd taken a chance and teased her.

"Yes... I'd love the chance while we're here. We had a good book collection in Montana, and a huge collection of those little disc things with movies, and a huge TV. But we lived so far from the city," he face fell as she remembered, "that it just wasn't possible to get in and go to the theatre or an opera, or even to a decent restaurant. We had a good cook, but like Mr Thomsett said, we lived on a ranch where we raised our own beef, so what was the point of shipping in other foods when we didn't have to. So it was mostly beef, with prairie chicken or river-trout as a relief."

"Well, I can't promise you the opera, but I do know some good restaurants, and if you like what's playing, I should be able to score theatre tickets..."

"Oh, that would be so good of you Mr Caldwell, thank you!"

"Please, call me Stacy," he had asked his smile still not quite reaching his eyes.

"Oh... Well, in that case," the widow blushed with pleasure, "you must call me Darcy!"

The visit to the theatre to see a performance of Tennessee Williams' 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof' had bored him almost rigid, but hand apparently enthralled Darcy Thomsett. He'd had sufficient practice however to maintain a pretence of interest in both the play and in his companion whose naivety was beginning to irk almost as much as Mattie's. But he'd been able to build on the shared experience of the theatre and had invited her to dinner on a couple of occasions, and had even managed with the appearance of the greatest goodwill to get hold of a couple of tickets for the Charger's home game against their near rivals, The Oakland Raiders. The cost of buying the tickets from a scalper had nearly seen him scraping the bottom of his money barrel, so he'd reluctantly been forced to abandon her for what was fast becoming a regular Sunday poker game. His luck hadn't been quite with him this week, and he'd resorted to a few of the underhand tricks he's acquired during his career to walk out of the game a four figure sum to the good, having taken care to balance his many small wins with a couple of apparently larger losses.

Luckily for his peace of mind Stacy was unaware that Robert Graham was a dedicated Chargers' fan and thanks to his uncle's influence has managed to secure tickets for all the season's home games. Robert's tickets weren't for the best seats, but they were plenty good enough for Robert and his buddy, Tom Prentiss, to see the attention lavished by Stacy Caldwell on the attractive brunette, and the flirtatious laughter with which she repaid those attentions and with which she seemed to have captivated him.

x-x-x-x-x

Jen returned from her lunch break and immediately re-booted her computer and started to plough through her afternoon's wok. She hadn't been at her desk for more than about fifteen minutes, when as always when she wanted to forge ahead, her 'phone started ringing. The first call was from a detailer at BUPERS, a very unhappy detailer who had just had an over-the-wire conversation with a two-star Marine General who, in no uncertain terms, had told her that he was distinctly unhappy with the length of time it was taking to come up with the name of a suitably qualified jg or lieutenant to take up the vacant post of Admin Officer at JSLT San Diego. Who, the aggrieved lieutenant commander wanted to know, had thought they could circumvent the chain of command and complain about BUPERS to the JAG?

Jen smiled and asked the caller to hold for moment, and pressing the transfer button on her desk-top 'phone exchange she buzzed Mac, "Colonel, ma'am, there's a detailer from BUPERS on the line demanding the head of whoever told General Cresswell about the delay in filling the AO post... Yes, ma'am, I'll put her right though!"

Damn, Jen thought, I'd love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation! She smiled again and turned back to her computer. Barely had she touched half a dozen keys when the 'phone rang again. This time it was a routine administrative matter that should have been handled by the non-existent AO; this one she happily patched through to Rebecca Williams' extension so that the query could be answered by Lieutenant Graves. Again she turned to the computer, and again her 'phone rang... And so the afternoon continued, apart from being called away from her desk to make a pot of tea for Mac, every time Jen turned her attention to something else the phone rang, at one stage she had three incoming calls queuing one behind the other. By fifteen-thirty hours she had achieved practically none of the work targets she had set herself and her nerves were frazzled, so when the 'phone rang yet again, she practically shouted her usually cheerful greeting...

"That is Jennifer Coates' extension isn't it?" A coolly cynical voice asked.

Jen's heart flip-flopped. She hadn't realised how much she'd missed that voice, and the owner of it. "Yes. Hi Miles. I'm sorry, it' been one of those days, the damn 'phone hasn't stopped ringing since thirteen-hundred hours. I've got a whole pile of work I was supposed to get done by secure, and I'm nowhere near where I wanted to be." She was completely unaware that even during the course of her complaint her voice had softened and that a small smile was beginning to curve the corners of her mouth.

"And that should affect the way you answer the 'phone?" Again the cynicism was plain in his voice.

"No, it shouldn't," she sighed, "but some of us are only human."

"True."

"Miles, why exactly did you call me? Was it just to pi... to aggravate me?" Jen's voice moved back towards the acerbic.

"No. To tell you I was back in town, and to tell that I intend to take you out to dinner. Some time soon."

His calm assumption that she would agree to go out to dinner with him after their last evening together nearly set Jen's temper flaring, but at the same time, she remembered with a glow, the efforts he had made to ensure that she enjoyed herself, and she had right up until she'd panicked at the end of the evening. He had done nothing wrong, not even when he'd invited her to spend a couple of days out of town with him. Any awkwardness she felt she could only blame herself for; she was the one who'd panicked. So, she supposed she owed him something for that... "OK... when did you have in mind?"

"Tomorrow evening? I'll pick you up at seven-thirty?"

"Yes, OK. Do I need to dress?"

"Oh, I can't afford Romano's too often, Jennifer, so no, informal is fine."

She could hear the smile in his voice and could picture the unholy amusement in his pale eyes as he said it, and that imagery was enough to spark her own smile in response, "OK, seven-thirty, at Cape May Avenue."

"Good. I'll see you then. Goodbye, Jennifer."

As if by magic, Miles' call silenced the 'phone for the rest of the working day and Jennifer despite the feeling of not-quite-euphoria that suddenly seized her did manage to make a small dent in the work that had piled up on her during the rest of the afternoon and clearing her departure for the day with Mac was able to secure promptly at seventeen hundred hours before heading to Lemon Grove, and remembering to stop of the way for the quart of fudge swirl ice cream she had promised Mattie.

x-x-x-x-x

Mac had smiled as she heard Jen say that she had an upset detailer on hold who wanted to reprimand whoever had reported BUPERS inefficiency to the JAG. She waited until she heard the double click that indicated that the call had been put through, "MacKenzie."

"Are you the person responsible for complaining to the JAG HQ that you felt there had been too long a delay in filling the AO position at JSLT South West?" The voice on the other end of the line was replete with the pettish annoyance so typical of a low-level bureaucrat.

"I am." Mac kept her voice quiet and non-committal.

"What do you think gives you the right to make complaints outside the chain of command?"

"Well, the JAG is my chain of command; in fact he's my CO."

"That may be so, but he's not in BUPERS chain of command!"

"Frankly, I don't care. We need an AO, we've been weeks asking for an AO, we've been more than patient, and you people have done nothing to ease a manning problem that is becoming critical in a small unit without any spar bodies who can take up the slack."

"You obviously have no idea how the business of filling posts is done!"

"Yes I do. Detailers publish notices of posts waiting to be filled and make a selection out of the most suitably qualified volunteers. If no volunteers are forthcoming, within a reasonable time frame, then a suitably qualified individual is detailed - after all that's how you got your title - and orders are cut and the individual is posted into the vacancy."

"Yes. But it's not easy finding volunteers for out of the way postings like this JSLT Southwest!"

Mac was stunned, "Out of the way...? Have you lost your mind? Or are you so stupid that you don't know where the post is?"

"That's enough! Do you know to whom you are talking?"

"I've a fair idea. You seem to be some sort of incompetent Pentagon weenie with an over-inflated sense of your own importance."

"Right! This is Lieutenant Commander Waters at BUPERS. What is the name of your CO? I shall be making an official complaint to him concerning your words and your attitude."

"I see. Very well, the name of the CO at JLST Southwest, which incidentally is in San Diego, perhaps you've heard of such an out of the way posting? As I was saying, the name of the CO is Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie USMC. In other words, me!" Mac waited, a satisfied smile hovering on her lips.

"Colonel... Colonel MacKenzie?" The bumptious voice had taken on a shocked quality.

"Yes, Lieutenant Commander, I am Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie and I am the CO of JSLT Southwest. I strongly suggest, now that I have your name written down, that you get your head out of your butt and find me a Goddam Admin Officer before I start filing charges against you for insubordination and dereliction of duty! Do I make myself clear?" Mac was enjoying this, but disciplined herself to keep any sign of amusement out of her voice.

The now-subdued voice of Lieutenant Commander Waters could just be heard, "Yes, ma'am, quite clear!"

"Good. I shall be calling you again tomorrow, Commander, when I expect you will be in a position to tell me the name of my new AO, and his or her ETA in San Diego. Is that also clear?"

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am"

"Good. Goodbye Commander!"

x-x-x-x-x

Jen arrived at the Rabb house just as Trish was showing a somewhat pale Linda Graham out. Jen paused and said, "Hello, Linda."

Linda merely pouted defiantly, and said "She had to be told!" before almost storming across the lawn to her car.

"What was all that about, Mrs Burnett?" Jen asked, "Linda's such a cheerful girl normally."

Trish's mood was made plain when she made no attempt to correct Jen's mode of address, and said "That stupid girl has just managed to thoroughly upset Mattie!"

"Why, what happened?"

"Oh, come in and I'll fix a cup of coffee for you, Jennifer," Trish said leading the way to the kitchen, and indicating a chair for Jen. "It seems that young Linda's brother went to watch the Charger's game last week, and saw this Stacy person, also at the game, apparently with a rather pretty young woman." Trish bustled around the kitchen setting Harm's rather old-fashioned percolator going. "It seems that the two of them were rather more than just friendly, and unfortunately this brother was filled with indignation and couldn't help venting to Linda. Linda has just told Mattie, and I'm afraid with his neglect of her since the procedure, Mattie is all too readily inclined to believe what she's just been told, and collapsed in a storm of tears! Honestly, I could slap that foolish girl"

Jen winced, "Well that's too bad, certainly, but you must know Trish that we've been trying to get Mattie to see sense about this creep for weeks!"

"Oh, I know, dear," Trish admitted wearily, placing a cup of coffee on the table in front of Jen, "but why, oh why did it have to happen now!"

Jen finished her coffee, "Well I've brought a quart of her favourite ice-cream with me. But somehow I don't think it'll help this time. Can you pop it in the freezer for her, for later? Do you think I could go on up...?"

Trish smiled, and reaching across the table gently covered Jen's hand with her own. "Bless you, Jennifer. I don't know if you'll do her any good, but I doubt you'll do her any harm. Yes, go on up, I managed to calm her down so she was over the worst of it. And yes, dear, I know young Linda was only being cruel to be kind, but she did put me out of all patience with her. Let's hope that you can repair some of the damage!"

Jen quietly climbed the stairs and gently knocked on Mattie's door, only to be greeted with a stifled, "Go away, Grandma! Let me alone!"

"Well, if I was your Grandma, I probably would go away if that's the way you talk to her," Jen mock-scolded the tear-stained teenager.

Mattie was curled up in a ball in her bed hugging her pillow to her chest and twisted her head o tare stone-faced at Jen. Her expression was so unwelcoming that Jen hesitated until she saw the helpless suffering in Mattie's eyes. Jen came forward and sat on the edge of Mattie's bed, and not speaking just held her arms out to her kinda-sister. Mattie sat up and allowed Jen to fold her in her arms although she stayed rigid for about a minute as Jen stoked her bright curls and murmured, "Never mind Matts, never mind, sweetheart."

Jen silently cursed herself for the sheer inanity of her words and her total inadequacy to soothe Mattie's distress, but a violent shudder ran through Mattie's body and she collapsed against Jen's shoulder and threw her arms around the older woman in a fierce hug as a racking sob was torn from her and she wept out the pain and emotions of the last few weeks and the betrayal of which she had just learned.

It was nearly half an hour later that Mattie's tears died down to the occasional hiccup, with her head still on Jen's shoulder and her cheeks still wet with tears, and when Jen offered to get her some water, she said, "Oh, no. Please. It's enough just to be like this, it's so comfortable." After a while she said, "You warned me, didn't you Jen?"

"Yes, Mattie, I tried, but I'm so sorry, I didn't do a better job."

"Linda just told me, but I wouldn't believe her! But it was true wasn't it? He didn't love me, not really, did he?

"No, he can't have done."

"I've been so freaking stupid, Jen! And dumb. I was thinking about going off to Vegas with him, and get married there - probably by some fake Elvis. That would have matched his fake love, pretty damn well, wouldn't it?"

"You wouldn't have done it, though Matts, would you?" Jen said encouragingly.

"I don't know. Sometimes, most of the time, it just seemed so cheap and tacky, but when I was with him..." Mattie's voice failed her and she swallowed several times before she regained control of her speech, "Then, after the procedure, he didn't visit, he didn't send flowers or even a card, although even some people I hardly knew did, even a couple of the guys from home room that I didn't think even liked me!"

"Oh, Mattie, I'm so, so sorry, he treated you so badly. You were always worth much better than he could ever be for you!"

"Oh, Jen you don't need to say sorry! I'm the one who's been a lying, deceitful little bitch, and I've been so horrible to everyone who tried to warn me, especially you, when you've always been there for me!"

"Well, then, Mattie, if you are really, really, sorry, then I suppose I shall have to try really, really hard to forgive you," Jen answered, trying to lighten the mood. Her attempt failed as with a renewed burst of tears, Mattie threw herself back into Jen's arms and wailed, "Oh Jen, what am I going to do? I'm so unhappy! What am I going to do?"


End file.
